by Bob Mayer
He watched Westland carefully. She had something on her mind. He had a feeling there was a reason why he hadn't been awakened and sent back with the others. Maybe another, more extensive debriefing was coming up over at Langley. He waited while she chose her words carefully.
"Although Task Force Hammer has been disbanded, there's still a great deal of concern about Colombia and the drug cartel. A lot has happened in Colombia in the last couple of hours. Alegre has declared martial law. There have been several bombings and assassinations in Bogota and Medellin. It looks like it's starting to shape up into an all-out war between the government and the cartel.
"The man whose lab you were about to hit last night, Ring Man, has tried consolidating his power base by moving into the vacuum caused by the first two Hammer strikes. The feeling seems to be that if Ring Man was out of the picture, then Alegre would have a good chance of actually beating the cartel."
"This is all very interesting, but what does any of it have to do with me?" Riley stretched out his legs on the table.
Westland continued slowly. "Even under martial law, Alegre isn't able to touch the Ring Man, legally. There's also the fear that if he does try something against the man personally, it could backfire and bring even more bloodshed."
Riley was getting tired of her beating around the bush. He had a feeling where all this was leading. "What are you trying to tell me?"
Westland looked him in the eyes. "They want you to terminate the Ring Man."
Riley lay back on the table and contemplated the ceiling. Clowns In Action has got to be what CIA stands for, he thought. These people can't be for real.
Riley spoke as if to the ceiling. "The last time some Special Forces people 'terminated,' as you say, someone on orders of the CIA, at least the last time it was publicly noticed, was at a place called Nha Trang in Vietnam. Your agency gave some of our people evidence that one of their local indigenous agents was a double. Your people also gave some not-so-subtle instructions on how to deal with the double.
"Unfortunately, someone squealed after the deed. The Special Forces people involved, all the way up to the highest ranking Green Beret in country, the 5th Group commander, were investigated and almost court-martialed for murder."
Riley rolled his head toward Westland. "Your fearless colleagues all of a sudden had collective amnesia. They knew nothing about a double agent and certainly nothing about orders to kill anyone. The Special Forces men were left out on their own." Riley sat up suddenly. "So why should I do this? Give me one good reason."
Westland faced him. "Revenge."
Riley snorted. "By the way, who the hell is this 'they' who want me to kill—and that's the proper word, not 'terminate'—Ring Man?"
"I got this straight from the deputy director."
"... who will swear on his mother's grave that he never said anything of the kind if I get caught and my head is blown off." Riley shook his head in wonder. "Have you thought about why they want me to do this and not one of their own superspy, Joe-ninja assassins? You guys employ a bunch of ex-Special Forces and ex-SEALs just for stuff like this. Any of them could do the job. I mean why me?"
Westland seemed confused. "I really didn't think about it too much. I guess I just assumed it was because you had already been working in Colombia and could be ready to go quickly, rather than bringing in someone new. It just seemed to be an extension of the task force."
Riley shook his head. "Maybe I'm cynical but I think there's another reason why I'm the man of the hour. It's because if this does leak or blow up, then your fine organization is in the clear and Special Forces is left holding the bag. I can see the headlines now: 'Crazed Special Forces Soldier Goes on One-Man Rampage in Foreign Country.' "
Another thought struck Riley. "By the way, does DOD know that you all want to borrow me for this?"
"You've been released to us for special duty for an unlimited time period."
"Yes, but do they know what you all want me to do?" Riley held up a hand. "Don't bother answering. That's a stupid question. Of course they don't."
Riley got up and walked around the room. He knew he should say "screw you" and walk away from this mess. It stunk bad. BUT. Maybe he could turn this to his advantage and use the mission to do some things he wanted to do. He considered it. His head and common sense told him not to touch this with a ten-foot pole. He checked his gut to see what it had to say. Then he turned back to Westland. "I know the what and the who. Kill Ring Man. Give me the rest of the mission statement: when and where and how."
He could see Westland's eyes widen in surprise. She didn't think I'd do it, Riley thought to himself. She has a lot to learn. He felt some of the pain from the loss of the previous night being twisted around inside of him. It was wrapping around his heart and hardening in place. Riley knew that if he was going to follow through on this, he would have to be stone-cold. He would have to enter another world and another reality with its own set of rules. And he would have to live by those rules. He felt sorry for Westland. She really didn't understand what they were getting into. This was a no-win situation whichever way it went.
Westland put her briefcase on top of the table and opened it. She pulled out a 1:250,000 map of Colombia. "Everything will be verbal and I'm going to be your point of contact for this operation. When is Thursday evening. Where is in Bogota. How is up to you."
Riley laughed at the sheer craziness of the situation. He couldn't help it. "Oh, that's real good. You're giving me seventy-two hours to go to a foreign country, assassinate one of the most guarded men there, and you can't even give me a head start on a way to accomplish it."
He looked at Westland. She seemed so earnest he almost laughed again. This was beyond the point of being ridiculous and was rapidly approaching the absurd. "Come on, Kate, give me a break. You've got more common sense than this. What's going on? Why the big rush?"
Westland shook her head. "I'm leveling with you, Dave. You know as much as I do. I agree this whole thing is screwed up, but I don't think we have much choice."
Riley put his hands on her shoulders and made her look him in the eyes. "That's where you're wrong. Don't ever believe that. You always have a choice. It's just that you have to pay the price that goes along with your choice." He let go of her and started pacing around the room. He would find out in a few days if she was willing to pay the price.
"The problem is not killing the Ring Man. You can kill anyone in the world. The problem is killing the Ring Man and coming home alive. There're some other factors involved here, too."
He considered Westland, trying to decide how much he could trust her. Throughout his life, Riley had never really trusted anyone. He'd always had what he called situational trust. He trusted certain people up to certain points in certain areas. But he had never trusted anyone completely.
Here he had to trust Westland with his life. He liked what he'd seen of her in the past week, but that was too short a time to really judge someone. Also, he had an almost pathological distrust of the organization she represented. Riley decided on a compromise. He'd trust her to the extent he had to, but he'd also ensure that she had a stake in things.
"What about contacts in country? Weapons? Safe houses? Travel arrangements?"
Westland nodded. "I've got you tickets for a flight tonight and a reservation under your cover name at a hotel in Bogota that the agency uses. There's a man in the office down there who you're supposed to meet for local intelligence. We can go over to Langley now and get the latest they've got there.
"If there's any equipment you think you'll need, give me a list and I'll forward it to our logistics section when we get to Langley. They'll either forward the stuff down on a hop or get it out of local supplies."
Riley reached over and grabbed a notepad from Westland's briefcase. He thought for a minute, then started writing. He listed several items and tore off the top piece of paper. "Here's what I need." He handed it to her.
As she stood up to go he spoke out. "There's on
e other thing I need that's not on the list."
"What's that?"
"You."
Westland stared at him in surprise. Riley smiled grimly. "I need you to go with me to Colombia as part of my cover. If I try going in alone I'll be spotted in a minute, but if we go together as a couple, with a good cover story that's backstopped, I'll have a much better chance of success."
He walked over and punched her lightly on the arm. "What the hell. Here's the big chance you've been waiting for."
BOGOTA
2:05 P.M.
Montez sat at the side of the president's desk and warily watched the American as he approached his boss. Montez was not happy at all with the present situation. The Americans had gotten Alegre into a real mess and for the past several days had been skittish about following through on their commitments. Montez's right hand caressed the handle of the Walther PPK that was tucked into his waistband.
He also didn't like this meeting with Alegre present. Always before Montez had managed to control the meeting place. But this time Jameson had insisted the president be here. Montez had advised Alegre not to agree, but Alegre felt they had to go through with it. They needed the Americans now more than ever before.
For a change, Jameson was smiling, which disturbed Montez even more. He didn't trust this American.
Jameson took the seat across the desk from Alegre. "We will take care of the Ring Man as you asked."
Alegre raised his eyebrows. "Why the sudden turnaround?"
"Let's just say we've found the right tool to do the job."
Alegre nodded. "Get rid of Ring Man and I can deal with the scum that are left."
Montez shook his head silently. His old friend did not know what he had gotten himself into.
Jameson stood up. "I hope you appreciate the expense my country has paid to run those missions for you this past week. Five dead men is a high price."
Montez narrowed his eyes. Why was Jameson bringing this up now?
Alegre answered solemnly. "I do appreciate it. But it is a war that both our countries are in. Your country must shoulder its part of the burden."
Jameson nodded. "That's true, but I must tell you that certain parties up north were not amused by your threat of disowning your role in the Hammer missions."
"I use whatever tools I have."
Jameson picked up his briefcase. "It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Mister President. I hope everything turns out all right for both of us."
"I hope so too, Mister Jameson."
Montez watched the American leave the room. Something had just happened, but he wasn't sure what it was.
PENTAGON
2:30 P.M.
Pike stalked through the hallways. He knew the way from his travels of the past week. He made it through the first three echelons deployed around the chairman's office before anyone even dared to question his presence. A fresh-faced major jumped up from his desk and moved to intercept Pike as he homed in on the door leading to the inner sanctum.
"Excuse me, sir, but the chairman is in a meeting."
Pike turned his glare on the unfortunate officer. "I have the chairman's permission to see him at any time. I'm exercising that right."
The major wasn't even close to being a match for the scarred veteran. Pike twisted the knob, stepped into the office, and shut the door behind him. The several generals who were clustered around the chairman's desk glanced up in confusion, wondering who dared barge into the chairman's office unannounced.
Pike stopped and stared at Macksey. He was willing to be somewhat tactful about things. The room grew quiet as the other occupants watched the silent confrontation. Finally Macksey gestured abruptly. "Everyone out." The other generals scattered like geese.
When the door shut behind the last one, Macksey shook his head. "This is stupid, whatever you think you're doing."
"I just want to hear it from you and not the CIA."
"Hear what from me?"
"That the Hammer Task Force is disbanded."
"All right, you're hearing it from me. It's disbanded. That comes straight from the president. You all did a fine job while it lasted."
Pike felt the strength drain out of him. He knew he was about to butt his head against the wall again, but there were some things he would not compromise. He limped his way to the massive desk and leaned both gnarled hands on it. "You're just going to forget the chance one of those men may be alive? And leave those bodies there?"
Macksey shook his head. "That man is dead. We've received intelligence to that effect."
"From whom? Those assholes up the road at Langley? Why should they give a shit? They left our people to hang in Vietnam and Cambodia and Laos when they had confirmed sightings. Why the hell should they change now?" Pike laughed bitterly. "Shit. We left our own hanging, too. We're not any better than they are, but at least I thought we might have learned."
Macksey leaned slightly forward. "Watch your tone with me, Pike. Remember who you're talking to. I can bust you in a heartbeat."
Pike laughed mirthlessly. "Bust me! Bust me into what? I was busted when I hit those trees twenty-one years ago. I was busted every time I didn't roll over and kiss ass, and spoke what I felt was the truth regardless of who it pissed off."
Pike put his face as close to Macksey's as the desk would allow. "Let me tell you something, General. While you were brown-nosing on a general's staff during your one tour in 'Nam, I was watching buddies of mine get their asses shot off for three years in the bush. I took a round through my gut and busted my back. While you were playing politics here in Washington, kissing politicians' asses, I was traveling around the world going places you pretty play soldiers never go. Doing the job you couldn't and wouldn't do.
"You don't scare me. Let me tell you one last thing. There aren't many things I believed in in the army. But one of them was taking care of my men and I always did that. And when the army has gotten to a point where the head man doesn't do that, then you don't have to bother busting me. I quit!" Pike turned and headed for the door.
Behind him Macksey's tone had changed. "Listen, goddammit. There's nothing I can do. The president doesn't want the incident down there to get any worse. He's specifically—"
Pike slammed the door on Macksey's explanations and his army career.
LANGLEY, VIRGINIA
3:00 P.M.
Riley didn't bother standing up as did Westland when Strom walked in the door. There was only so much of the game that he'd play. He eyeballed the deputy director taking his place at the table across from him. Strom dominated the spare briefing room with his air of confidence and control. This was his turf and he wanted Riley to know it. Riley found it interesting that Strom chose to sit as far away from him as possible, leaving Westland at the head of the table, figuratively in the role of mediator.
On the drive over from Belvoir Riley had pumped Westland for more details, but the results had been lean. Strom was the man with the hard information, and just how much of it he would divulge was questionable. Riley knew Strom would give up only enough for Riley to do what they wanted him to, if killing Ring Man was indeed the purpose of the mission.
Strom slid two folders and two large envelopes to Westland, who passed one of each on to Riley. "That's all we've got on Ring Man, plus a listing of some information on our operations down there that you're going to need. In the envelopes you'll also find your cover documentation." Strom sat back in his chair and watched as Riley slowly opened his folder.
The top item was a five-by-eight photo of a man entering a limousine. "That's the latest photo we have of the Ring Man, taken a week ago in Bogota."
Riley examined the picture. The figure labeled as Ring Man would be easy to recognize. Riley scanned the rest of the picture. The limousine was obviously armored. In the background of the photo he caught glimpses of other figures, apparently security. "How big is Ring Man's normal guard detail?"
Strom shrugged. "Anywhere from three to ten. You can be sure he's
upped it since he's started this war against the government and the other cartel leaders. In fact he hasn't been seen out and about for the past week, since that photo was taken."
"Where's he holed up?"
Strom gestured at the file folder. "The next picture is a ground shot of his villa outside Bogota. You've also got overhead imagery in there of the grounds and four kilometers around them, plus a one-to-fifteen thousand geo map of the area. We haven't had time to get any blueprints or details on security and alarms, but our man in Bogota is working on that and might have something for you tomorrow after you get there."
Riley examined what he could see of Ring Man's villa. Fortress would probably be a more appropriate term, he figured, as he took in the obvious security details. A ten-foot stone wall completely enclosed the grounds. He could make out guards at the main gate. The overhead imagery showed several more guards scattered around the grounds on the inside. Riley spotted some smaller shadows. "Looks like he's got dogs in there. Do you know what kind?"
"No info on that, old boy."
Riley glanced up in irritation. Strom was sitting there unperturbed with the hint of a smile on his face. Riley decided he was through fooling around. "Why don't you tell me what the hell you do know."
The smile grew slightly larger. "It's all in the folder. You'll know as much as I do after you read that."
"What about a name, or did that yo-yo's mother name him Ring Man?"
"All we have is Ring Man."
Riley glanced over at Westland and back to Strom. All right, he thought, fine. That's the way it's going to be. For the next thirty minutes, Riley carefully read through the rest of the folder, committing the important parts to memory.
There wasn't much there. Obviously someone had done a rush job on parts of the intelligence packet, although that was contradicted by the dating on some of the photos and imagery. That made Riley wonder when this mission had first been authorized.
Getting the high-resolution imagery of the villa required someone with a lot of power in the intelligence community. Riley didn't think there were too many spy satellites with orbits over Colombia, although for all he knew there might be. Besides, he knew they could always run a U-2 overhead for imagery if needed. The dates on the photos indicated an extensive surveillance had been in place as early as two days ago.