by Bob Mayer
Alegre stood up. "I must go and see what has happened. I must make my presence known to the people and give them confidence that we will win this war."
Montez put out a hand and grabbed his old friend. "You will die if you leave here. That is what they are waiting for. You must stay inside. This is the only place you are safe."
Alegre threw the hand off angrily. "Am I prisoner in my own home? In my own country? The president is unable to leave his palace because he will be killed if he does?"
"I am sorry, my friend. That is the way things are unless something happens soon in our favor."
KNOLL 8548
12:35 P.M.
Riley watched the car roll down the driveway and pass through the gates of the grounds. He tracked it through the scope to where it pulled onto the main road and headed toward downtown Bogota. He wondered who was in the car and where they were going.
He checked his watch. Another four hours until he started down the hill to meet up with Westland.
LANGLEY, VIRGINIA
12:35 P.M.
Hanks slammed his desktop. "What the hell is she doing?" Strom shook his head. The news that Westland was a loose cannon running around Colombia wasn't going over very well.
The director fumed. "She's finished. You get on the horn and tell Jameson to reel her in."
Strom protested weakly. "But she's handling Riley." "Correction. She was handling Riley. I want her ass up here tonight. Jameson can take over."
Strom didn't want to, but he felt he needed to point things out. "I'm not sure Riley will still do the mission if we yank Westland."
Hanks considered that for a few moments as he let his temper cool. "All right. She stays until it's over. But I want Jameson with her from here on out. Call him and tell him to get his ass over to where she is and stay with her. He's not to let her out of his sight."
BOGOTA
1:10 P.M.
Westland stirred in her sleep. She cracked open her eyes as she tried to focus on what had awakened her. There it was again. Someone trying the doorknob. Westland's eyes flew wide open as she rolled off the bed, pulling the Beretta out from underneath the pillow as she went. Her heart was pounding as she centered the sights on the door.
She released the safety and curled her finger around the trigger, applying pressure. She tried to slow her rapid breathing. The lock turned and the door started to swing open. She was halfway through the five pounds of pressure needed to fire the gun when she recognized the figure in the door.
Jameson stopped in surprise at the sight of the muzzle aimed at his forehead. "Whoa! I'm one of the good guys."
Westland stood up, putting the pistol down on the bed. "Jesus Christ. Don't you believe in knocking? How the hell did you open that lock?"
Jameson dangled a key from his hand. "I made the arrangements, remember? Don't you think I'd have an extra key?" He shut the door behind him, strolled over to the balcony doors, and peered out. Then he turned back to the room. He winked at her. "You and Riley pretty cozy here?"
Westland was still frazzled from the near shooting and in no mood for his intimations. "What the hell do you want?"
Jameson was enjoying himself. "You are screwing up big time, girl. Your little escapade at the embassy has pissed off some very important people. The only reason you're not getting on a plane back to the States is because they're not sure Riley would still do the job without you and your, uh, shall we say assets? But from here on out I've been ordered to baby-sit you." He grinned. "Kind of a ménage à trois, eh?"
He was still grinning as the door burst open. Jameson's reactions were slow but his presence was enough to distract the men coming in. They hadn't expected anyone other than the woman.
Westland dove for the floor, putting the bed between herself and the intruders. As she hit the ground she remembered that the Beretta was still lying on top of the bed. Near the window, Jameson was belatedly reaching for his gun, inconveniently located in a holster in the small of his back. He was still reaching as the first man through the door blew the agent out the balcony doors and over the railing with a sustained burst from his Ingram MAC-10.
Westland slid underneath the bed. Looking to her right she saw the legs of three men enter the room. One of them called to her. "Come out, little lady. You left your gun on the bed. We just want to talk to you."
The man who had blown away Jameson kneeled down and peered under the bed. His eyes opened wide momentarily as he saw the black hole of the muzzle of the Colt Python pointing right at his forehead. Westland's round blew off the top half of his head.
The other two men stared in surprise. That gave Westland the time to roll back out from under the bed on the far side. The two men angrily emptied their magazines into the bed, sending feathers flying. As soon as she heard the clicks of their bolts sliding forward onto an empty chamber, Kate rose up to a kneeling position. The two sicarios stared slack jawed at this apparition of death.
She fired one round through each man's forehead.
PENTAGON
1:35 P.M.
Linders nodded as he spoke into the phone. "Yes, that's right. I verify the orders General Pike showed you. He's working on direct vocal orders from the chairman."
"What about the comm link?"
"Didn't Pike give you one?"
"No."
"I guess I'll have the normal setup prepped here, then. I'll have the comm channel opened up starting at 0600 tomorrow morning. Will that give you plenty of time for your checks?"
"It ought to. Who's the verifier?"
Linders frowned. "I imagine it's the chairman. Didn't Pike give you that?"
"He said it was operating according to something he called the Hammer strikes."
Linders paused in thought. "All right. I guess they'll be picking you up over at Belvoir then for the comm link. I was wondering why he hadn't given you that. Is Pike still around down there?"
"Yeah, he's over at the memorial service. He said he'd stop by later."
"Check with him then on that. He should be able to square you away on everything."
"Roger that. Anything else I need to know, sir?"
"No. Good luck."
Linders turned off his STU-III and swiveled his chair around. Something didn't sit right with this whole situation. He'd understood the need to keep the Hammer strikes in real tight for security reasons, but this thing was almost getting out of hand.
Linders considered calling the chairman with his misgivings. He thought about it for a few seconds, then picked up the phone and punched in an internal number for the Pentagon.
"Chairman's office. Colonel Cross here, sir."
"This is General Linders. Is the chairman available?"
"No, sir. He's across the river testifying on the B-2. Do you have a message?"
"When will he be back?"
"He left word that he'd be heading straight home to Fort Myers after finishing there, sir. Would you like me to forward a message to him over at the hill?"
Linders sighed. "No. That's all right. I'll get a hold of him tomorrow."
FORT BRAGG, NORTH CAROLINA
2:00 P.M.
The chaplain stood in the shadow of the famous Iron Mike statue of a Green Beret soldier that stood outside the Special Forces Museum at Fort Bragg, across the street from the 1st Special Operations Command headquarters. His words drifted out over the crowd gathered for the service.
"We are gathered here together to honor the memory of our fallen comrades. Ours is a profession that is fraught with dangers, even during the apparent safety of peacetime. We all know the risks involved in training hard and we all. .."
Pike tuned out the 7th Group chaplain. He hated the hypocrisy of the whole thing. Partusi, Marzan, Holder, and Lane had all died in combat fighting. Yet, that reality would never be acknowledged.
Pike turned his weathered gaze on the people seated in the front row facing the statue. Two of the four men had been married and both had children. The weeping families sitting in
that front row had paid a high price, and they would never know how their husbands and fathers had really died.
Pike knew he could still stop the wheels he had set in motion. But looking at those crying faces steeled his heart. There'd been too much backing off and too much running away. He was going to push this to the limit. He'd probably be found out and fail, but he'd go down trying.
LANGLEY, VIRGINIA
2:12 P.M.
"I'm scrapping this whole thing."
Strom looked up in surprise at his boss's reaction to the news on Jameson. "But they don't know if Riley or Westland were compromised."
Hanks shook his head. "This thing's turning to shit. What did the local authorities say?"
Strom looked up from his briefing notes. "They say Jameson was killed during a robbery attempt."
"Bullshit!" Hanks exploded. "A chest full of 9-millimeter? Anything on Westland?"
"No."
"Think they got her?"
Strom paused for a second. "I don't know. Somebody had to waste those three cartel guys."
"You think Westland did that?"
"The report I've got says that Jameson's weapon was still in his holster and unfired. Since the bodies were still there when the police arrived, I'd have to assume that nobody was left alive from their side to retrieve the dead. Otherwise you can pretty much figure they'd have tried to cover things up."
"Where is she then?" asked Hanks. "Why didn't she show up at the embassy?"
"I don't know. It only happened about an hour ago. She could be anywhere."
Hanks considered the situation. "You think they'll still try and go ahead with the Ring Man hit?"
"My best guess is that Riley and Westland have gone into hiding. Maybe they have aborted and are on their way back. They've got to know their cover is blown."
The director made his decision. "I've already stuck my neck out too far on this one. I want you to fly to Bogota immediately on my jet and lay down the law to Alegre. Tell him he can do all the talking he wants about the Hammer strikes, but we're done doing his dirty work. I'm going over to State and brief the secretary, then take him over to the White House to let the Old Man know what's going on. It's time to cut our losses."
"What about Riley?"
"Try to use the local people to track him down and call him off if he's still on the mission, which I doubt anyway." Hanks shook his head. "I don't know why I authorized this thing in the first place." He pointed a finger at Strom. "You tell Alegre to cool this stuff with the cartel. We did what the president wanted and we've pushed it as far as it's going to go without losing Alegre. I think State will back me up on this."
EGLIN AIR FORCE BASE, FLORIDA
2:20 P.M.
The operations officer for the 1st Special Operations Wing reread the message flimsy. He looked up at his assistant. "What the hell is this?"
The major shrugged. "Got that about twenty minutes ago."
"Did you verify?"
"Yes, sir. It's genuine."
The ops officer scratched his head in irritation. "Shit. How the hell are we supposed to plan a mission off this piece of crap? I'm getting real tired of this bullshit. I hope this isn't another one of DCSOP's no-notice tests."
The major smiled. "Can't be one of those. They're giving us eighteen hours of advance warning."
The operations officer chuckled. "Keep it up, smart ass." He turned his chair and looked at the status board behind his desk. "Hotel Six is already in place. Alert Tango Three for the lift. Tell them to be prepared for whatever the hell they think those yahoos up at Bragg can dream of. Tell 'em to also make sure they can talk SATCOM to Hotel Six, and get"—the ops checked a clipboard to see who was the pilot in command of Hotel Six—"Mackelroy up to speed once they find out what's going on."
The assistant operations officer presented his superior with a mock salute. "Aye, aye, sir."
FORT BRAGG, NORTH CAROLINA
2:53 P.M.
Pike poked his head around the doorway. "What's up, Jim? Pete said you wanted to see me before I left."
"Hell, yeah. I just talked to Linders a little while ago. He verified the operations order but he didn't know shit about commo or verifying. You know I got to have a comm link and a final verifier."
Pike eased around the doorway and into the office. He'd been half afraid to find the whole thing blown. He was getting too old for this stuff. His heart couldn't take much more. "I'm sorry. I guess I was just too caught up with this memorial thing. I knew those guys who were killed. They used to work for me."
"Yeah, that was a real shame."
"Anyway." Pike reached into his pocket and produced a piece of paper. "Here's the call signs and comm instructions. You'll be talking back to me at Fort Belvoir and I'll have a link direct to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs." Pike chuckled. "Who the hell he'll be talking to I don't know, but I'll be relaying the verification from the chairman if it's a go. Is that good enough?"
The other man relaxed. "Yeah, that will be fine. By the way, 1st SOW just called all pissed off about not getting any operational info. I told that piss-head ops officer to go pound sand and just get me a bird up here." He shook his head. "Fucking air force thinks the world revolves around them. How the hell can I give them any operational info when I don't even know how it's going to go down yet?"
Pike nodded in sympathy. "You know how the air force is. Try to treat them good. It's a long walk without them. Got any ideas yet?"
The man smiled. "Yeah. We've run some scenarios like this in training. The troop commander is working it out with his people right now."
VICINITY OF KNOLL 8548
4:36 P.M.
Riley crouched in the drainage ditch on the side of the road and watched the occasional car flash by. He checked his watch again. She was late. There were few things he hated more than someone being late. Especially with him sitting here exposed. He'd cached the rifle in his tree, and the submachine gun and other equipment were in a sack by his feet.
Riley glanced at his watch one more time. Another minute. He slid down lower in the ditch as a truck full of workers roared by. In doing so, he knocked the bag from its perch and it splashed into a puddle.
Riley cursed as he picked it up. Now he'd have to clean everything in there and recheck the functioning. He hoped the goggles hadn't gotten wet. He took another look down the road and spotted the Pinto rolling toward him. Gathering his gear, he stood up and waited by the edge of the road.
Westland rolled up and stopped briefly. Riley hopped in, throwing his sack in the backseat. "Where the hell you been?"
He looked behind to make sure no one was following. The lack of a reply caused him to look at Westland more closely. Her hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly the whites of the knuckles showed. She was staring straight ahead as she drove unevenly down the road.
"Hey. You all right?" When she said nothing Riley tapped her on the shoulder. "What the hell is the matter, Kate? Hey, pull over."
She pulled the car over to the edge of the road. Riley waited until she shut the engine down before reaching over and grabbing both her shoulders. He turned her so she had to look at him. "What happened? Take a deep breath and then just tell me."
Kate took the breath and leaned back against the seat as Riley released her. "I went to the embassy like we agreed this morning. I talked to Turrel and he let me call Pike."
Riley watched her carefully as she related the events of the morning and afternoon. When she told him what happened in the hotel room he reached out again and held her shoulder. "What did you do after you took out the three guys?"
Westland shook her head. "I wasn't sure what to do. I couldn't go to the embassy. They must have followed me from there. Plus, with Jameson getting blown away they'd probably have held me, and I knew you needed me to pick you up. So I grabbed our stuff and left."
"Didn't the cops or anyone else react to all that shooting? "
Westland shook her head. "Most everyone seemed glad to g
et the hell out of the way when I came out. I went down the stairs, grabbed the car, and took off out of town. I parked on a trail about ten kilometers south of here until it was time to come get you."
Riley squeezed her shoulder. "You done good, Kate. You used your brain."
"I killed three men."
"Four, if you count last night." Riley shook her slightly. "Hey, listen. I know it isn't fun to kill someone, but remember what you said to me our first night here after I killed those guys in the bar? As long as you still feel bad about it, that means there's a difference between you and them. You didn't have any choice. You did what you had to."
Westland straightened up. "What do we do now?"
"We can't go back into town. Looks like we camp out tonight. We'll park the car about three or four klicks past the stream path, then walk back to there and head up the knoll. We'll go to my surveillance point and spend the night there."
For the first time Westland thought to ask what had happened to Riley. "Did you spot anything? Any way to get the Ring Man?"
Riley shook his head. "Ring Man's not the issue anymore. Something else happened."
"What?"
"I saw Powers alive at the villa."
RING MAN'S VILLA
7:30 P.M.
Ring Man stared at Ariel. "The only fortunate thing out of the incident this afternoon is that Ponte managed to get himself killed. He saved me the trouble of having to do it. I want you to find and kill this American and his woman. They have been a source of great trouble."
Ariel nodded and popped off with a hearty "Yes, sir," while at the same time wondering how the hell he would find the two Americans. The trail of the woman from the hotel had gone cold. For all he knew they were both on a flight back to the United States. That would be the smart thing to do and what Ariel would have done in their place. They were good, whoever these strangers were, but they would run out of luck sooner or later if they stayed in this country. Ariel figured that his best shot was to have the pressure on the street increased. Someone would see them eventually if they were still here.