by Bob Mayer
"My feelings don't matter."
Ariel considered the man. He felt a certain empathy for him. From the report he had received the American had been captured by sheer luck. He'd been moving south along the coast when he'd run into one of the patrols Ring Man had ordered out after he'd received word from Maria on the impending raid.
"It is a shame that we have to waste your talents. The Americans have at least admitted that the dead men were from the 7th Special Forces Group. I'm impressed. I have heard good things about you Green Berets. Not as good as our commandos in Israel but still a potent force."
The man didn't rise to the barb. Ariel tried another tack. "Maybe I can talk to my boss about you. Would you be interested in working with me?"
The man turned and carefully spit into Ariel's face. In a fit of fury the Israeli pulled out his pistol and cocked it. The copilot in the right front seat had been following the conversation and now yelled, "Put that away! What do you think you're doing? You can't fire that in here. Besides, the Ring Man wants the American alive."
Ariel slowly regained control of his temper. He pushed the muzzle of the pistol into the man's temple. "You will pay for that. Maybe not now, but later."
The American looked at Ariel and smiled. "Fuck you. Fuck your mother. Fuck your father. Fuck your—" The rest of the tirade was lost as Ariel tore the headset off the man. That didn't stop the American, though. He rocked in the web seat as much as the restraints would let him and shouted profanities at the top of his lungs.
Ariel spent the rest of the flight pressed up against the door, as far as he could get from the crazy American, thinking of things he would do to him if the Ring Man let him.
UNITED STATES EMBASSY, BOGOTA
10:05 A.M.
Westland looked across the desk at Lieutenant Colonel Turrel, the army military attaché to Colombia. Turrel returned her stare with a look that ranged somewhere between amusement and concern.
His amusement came from having watched Westland fight off Jameson. The CIA man had nearly had a fit when Westland appeared in the Marine Corps' guard post in the embassy, demanding to see the army military attaché. Jameson had hustled her into the embassy and tried to steer her into his office. Westland had sabotaged that plan by the simple tactic of not getting on the elevator with Jameson and watching the door shut in his surprised face. She'd then climbed the stairs to the second floor and presented herself to Turrel. Before she could talk to him, Jameson had stormed into the room, ordering her to his office. Westland had stubbornly refused, and Jameson had just left in a huff, threatening her, telling her he was going to call Virginia and ship her ass back on the first thing flying.
Turrel's concern stemmed from his knowledge that something fishy was going on. Putting the cache in three nights ago had alerted him to that fact. This young woman seated across from him must be involved somehow.
Westland sighed deeply and tried to figure out how to begin. Riley had told her to be up front with Turrel. She decided to be as truthful as she could without giving away any classified information on the mission. She was already in enough trouble.
"My name's Kate Westland. As you can tell from the last couple of minutes, I work for the agency. I'm down here on an operation and I need to use your STU-III line to call someone in Washington."
Turrel leaned back in his chair. "Why don't you use Jameson's? He's got an even higher priority line than I do."
"He wouldn't let me. I'm not supposed to even be here."
"I gathered that much. If you're operating with a cover you've probably blown it."
"I had no choice. I have to get in contact with someone in the Pentagon."
Turrel raised his eyebrows. "Anybody I might know?"
"Do you know General Pike?"
"Mike Pike?" Westland nodded. "I didn't know he'd been promoted. I know him by reputation. Anybody wearing these crossed arrows on their collar from Special Forces branch knows about him." Turrel seemed to consider this for a few seconds. "I assume you want to talk to him privately?"
Westland nodded. "It's highly classified."
"Does this have anything to do with the cache I put in the other night?"
"I can't answer that." Westland looked him in the eyes. "Please, I need to make this call."
Turrel relented. "All right. I'll stand guard outside. Do you know how to work that thing?" He pointed at the bulky phone with a line of buttons over the normal telephone keypad.
She nodded. Turrel removed the activating key from the string around his neck, turned on the phone, and left the room.
Westland punched in the number Riley had given her. She'd feel really stupid if no one answered, after going through all this trouble. She waited anxiously as the phone buzzed twice on the other end. She let out a deep breath when it was picked up and a familiar voice came on.
"Pike here. This line is unsecured."
Westland didn't give her name, hoping her voice would be recognized. "We need to go secure."
"Roger. You ready on your end?"
"Yes."
"All right. I'm on now."
Westland punched two numbers on the top row of buttons. She heard a beep and then a hiss. A red light came on her set. "I'm showing red."
Pike's voice came back. "I've got red too. I assume that's you, Kate."
"It's me, General. Riley told me to call you. I'm in Colombia with him."
"I know that."
Westland looked at the phone in surprise. How did Pike know that? "Do you know why we're here?"
"Yeah. Some bozo from your outfit figured that Riley could take out the Ring Man."
How the hell did he know all this? Supposedly the only people in on the whole thing were at Langley or down here. Was there a leak in Langley? Then it occurred to her. "Riley called you from the airport, didn't he?"
"Of course. He figured he might need some help and he thought I was the one who might be able to do that for him. What did he tell you to relay to me?"
The son of a bitch, she thought to herself. I wonder what the hell else he's done that I don't know about. Westland shook off her surprise and proceeded to relate the information Riley had given her. She concluded by asking about the possibility of a Hammer strike on the villa.
Pike's bitter laugh wasn't distorted by the phone. "Hell, no. You got a better chance of the Ring Man having a heart attack than you do of this government taking any action. The video has caused people to head for the hills. They're still denying everything at State and here at the Pentagon.
"If Alegre falls there's going to be some hard questioning. This most recent wave of assassinations and bombings has people here running scared. The feeling is that the drug cartel is going to make a big push against the government and that the Hammer missions may have been the spark. And no one wants to admit publicly that they were part of that."
Then what am I doing talking to you then? Westland thought. "Is there anything you can do?"
"I'm working on something. I'm flying down to Bragg in an hour for the memorial service for those guys. If I come up with something useful, how can I get a hold of you?"
"I don't know."
"Whose office are you calling from?"
"The army attaché’s."
"What's Riley doing?"
"He's got surveillance on the Ring Man's villa."
"Good. Tell him not to take any action before midnight tomorrow night. I know he'll be keeping pretty tight surveillance on the target. If I can do anything, I'll get back to him somehow."
Westland was confused. How the hell could Pike contact Riley? And it was obvious that Pike also knew the deadline for the hit. "How will you contact him?"
"I'll get a hold of the attaché down there and relay a message through him to you, and you pass it on. If he's letting you use his phone he should be willing to pass a message. Will that work?"
"Yes. The attaché here is a Lieutenant Colonel Turrel."
"I know. I'll talk to him later today. Is there anything else?"<
br />
"No."
"Good luck."
Westland heard the click on the other end. She hung up and turned off the phone. When she opened the door Turrel was standing there with Jameson in front of him and an air force full colonel next to him. They all turned at her appearance in the doorway.
"What were you doing in there?" Jameson demanded.
"Nothing." Westland sidled up next to Turrel.
"Bullshit." Jameson turned to the air force officer, who was probably the ranking attaché. "Your man here has made contact with this woman despite my protests. I demand that you discipline him."
Westland could see that Jameson had taken the wrong approach with the military man. He confronted the CIA man. "I don't appreciate you telling me what to do. You can demand all you want. From what Colonel Turrel has told me, your person approached him. I don't see where he did anything wrong. If you can't control your own people that's your problem." With that the colonel turned and stalked away.
Jameson tried another approach. "Did you make a call?"
Westland played innocent. "Who would I call?"
Jameson bullied past them and looked into the office at the phone. "Where's your STU-III key?"
Turrel pulled out the key Westland had slipped him. "It's been right here the whole time she was in my office." He put away the key. "You know I'm really getting tired of the two of you. Go work out your problems elsewhere." With that the army officer went into his office, slamming the door behind him.
Jameson faced Westland. "What are you doing? What's going on?"
Westland shrugged. "I just wanted to check on some things about the cache the colonel put in for us."
Jameson was totally lost. "I gave you the information on that."
Westland nodded. "I know." She started heading for the stairs. "Well, I'll see you later."
"Wait!" Jameson cried out. "I have a call in to Langley. Strom's supposed to be getting back to me any minute now—I'll find out then what they want me to do about you."
Westland was already halfway down the stairs. "Sorry. Have to go."
As she slipped out the gate of the embassy and headed for the hotel, Westland failed to notice the man shadowing her from a discreet distance. Her mind was on the confrontations in the embassy, not on making sure she didn't have a tail. Prior to entering the hotel, she did a cursory check but noticed nothing unusual.
KNOLL 8548, COLOMBIA
10:46 A.M.
In the daylight, Riley had managed to find a tree with a slightly better view and a more comfortable branch. He had the M2l rifle with him and was observing the target through the ART 2 scope. He had yet to see any sign of the Ring Man in the grounds. All the windows were polarized, which prevented a clear look inside, and Riley had no doubt they were also bulletproof. Even if they weren't, the odds of getting a good shot through glass at long range were low. The first-floor windows were also covered with bars to prevent anyone going in that way.
Riley had spent the morning watching the guards, trying to determine their patterns. He shook his head. If the Ring Man didn't come out, he wasn't even going to be able to use the sniper option. His ears perked up as he heard the snap of rotor blades coming from the north. He tracked a Bell Jet Ranger swinging in through the valley, heading for the Ring Man's mansion.
Riley chambered a round. If the Ring Man came out and got on that bird, he'd take it out when it took off. It would be an excellent way of doing the job. They wouldn't figure out what had happened to the helicopter until he was long gone.
Riley started considering where the best place would be for his shot. If he got a frontal shot, he'd try penetrating the windshield in the vicinity of the pilot. He had ten rounds in this magazine. He figured he could put all ten into the cockpit in about five seconds. If he didn't get a frontal shot, he'd go for the transmission and engine to crash the bird.
The helicopter flew past Riley's position barely four hundred meters away. He kept the scope on it as it settled down onto the helipad in the front yard. The blades started slowing and three men approached the aircraft. Riley zoomed in on them. None was the Ring Man.
He watched as the doors opened. A man got out from the left side and scooted around the front of the aircraft to the right door. Riley focused on that man's face. An Anglo. Riley wondered who he was. The right door opened and the guards seemed to be helping someone out.
Riley's hands gripped tight on the rifle as he recognized the man they were lifting out. He took a deep breath to calm himself and thought furiously as he watched them drag Powers toward the villa. His finger curled around the trigger and he sighted in on the Anglo who'd gotten off the bird.
"Fuck," Riley muttered to himself as he forced his arm muscles to relax. Blowing away the man, whoever he was, wouldn't help anything and would probably get Powers killed in retaliation. Riley watched as the party disappeared behind the rise of the house. The helicopter picked up and winged away in the direction of Bogota.
Riley leaned back against the trunk of the tree and considered the situation. He'd been right all along. Now he knew not only that Powers was alive but where he was.
Gradually, Riley's initial surprise and elation at seeing Powers dimmed as he realized he still had the same problem. In fact it was even worse now. His first priority was to rescue Powers. Killing the Ring Man wouldn't accomplish that.
If Powers didn't come back out of the villa, Riley knew that meant one thing. He was going to have to go in.
FORT BRAGG, NORTH CAROLINA
11:54 A.M.
The man in civilian clothes looked up from the piece of paper in his hands and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I'm going to have to verify this with DCSOP-SO, you know."
Pike nodded. "Of course."
For the tenth time in the last five minutes, the man looked over the satellite imagery Pike had brought. "Goddamn, Mike. You sure have tossed a live grenade in my lap with a damn short fuse."
"Can you do it?"
The man equivocated. "I don't know. It's chancy. We could take a big hit trying to pull this off with such little heads-up. You got the aircraft lined up?"
Pike nodded. "All set. You guys had the warning order to plan contingencies for this last week. Why all the fuss?"
The man relented a little. "Well, we did the area study and some basic plans, but we didn't have anything specific to work from. You're not giving us much time to actually plan the details." The man gave Pike a hard stare. "This isn't any bullshit exercise you assholes in the Pentagon have thought up, is it?"
Pike spread his hands. "Listen, Jim. We've known each other for a long time. Would I do that to you?" If they wanted to think it was an exercise so much the better, Pike thought. It wouldn't change the way they planned or prepared.
The man thought for a few more moments, then grinned. "Guess I'd better get the ball rolling, then. About goddamn time we did something like this."
RING MAN'S VILLA
12:05 P.M.
The Ring Man enjoyed watching Ponte squirm. The man had fucked up too much lately. Both Ponte and Ariel had been sitting across from his desk for ten minutes now, in complete silence. The Ring Man let it drag on. Give them both time to do some thinking. He liked toying with people mentally and physically. He was feeling good watching the two men and caressing his young girl's thigh as she sat on the corner of his desk.
Finally he gestured toward the Israeli. "You did very good in Cartagena. There will be a bonus for you."
The Israeli nodded. "Thank you, sir."
Ring Man turned his gaze on Ponte and his face hardened. "I hope you have some information on the strange American."
Ponte licked his lips. This was his chance. "I do. One of our men trailed a woman from the American embassy to a hotel nearby. She's registered under the name of Gonzalo along with her husband. We have a Gonzalo couple listed on the manifest for the flight on Monday night."
Ring Man considered that. "Did you get an identification on the man?"
Pon
te shook his head. "There's no sign of the man. The desk man says he left early this morning and has not returned. His description matches the one the man at the bar gave. The woman is still in the room. I'm having it watched."
"What do you plan on doing?"
Ponte licked his lips again. "Keep the hotel under surveillance until the man shows up and then grab him."
The Ring Man turned to the other occupant of the room. "Are you familiar with the situation with this mysterious American?"
Ariel nodded. "Ponte briefed me."
"What would you do now?"
The Israeli leaned forward in his seat. "We must seize the initiative. I would take the woman now. Find out where the man is from her. If you wait, you leave the initiative up to the opponent. That is unacceptable in war. This man has killed quite a few of our people. Who knows what he is up to at this very minute. There is a purpose to his actions but we don't know what that purpose is. Maybe it has something to do with the American soldier we hold prisoner here."
Ring Man agreed. "I like your reasoning. I do not like letting this American lead us in a foolish chase." He turned to Ponte. "Get the woman and bring her here. From her we will find out where her man is and then get him too."
Ponte nodded weakly and stood up, dismissed. As he headed for the door he was stopped by Ring Man's cold voice. "This is your last chance, my friend. Do not fail."
PRESIDENTIAL PALACE, BOGOTA
12:15 P.M.
Alegre looked up as two distant booms rattled the windows of his office. A few minutes later the door swung open and Montez strode in. "What was that?"
Montez sighed. "Two bombs went off at the Supreme Court building. We're not sure yet how many were killed. It is bad, my President."
Alegre closed his eyes and said a brief prayer for the dead and wounded. "Bring in additional troops."
"My President, we have already brought in three battalions. They cannot guard everything and be everywhere. There is suspicion that some of the troops have been planting the bombs. The commander of the army just called and said he could not afford to remove any more troops from fighting the rebels."