Eyes of the Hammer (The Green Berets) (35 page)

"Colombia is also in the headlines tonight as violence continues to escalate in that country. Three bombs exploded in the city of Medellin today and four people were killed, including one policeman.

"This violence is the reaction of the drug cartel against measures imposed by the government to crack down on their lucrative business. This brings to twelve the number of people who have been killed there in the last two days.

"On other fronts, in the Soviet Republic of.. ."

Riley grabbed Westland and hustled her away from the screen back to their chairs. Riley scanned the waiting area. There was no one within twenty feet. He lowered his voice and put his head close to hers. "Looks like Ring Man is making a point. Wonder how your boss is going to explain the bodies having little bullet holes in them and being on Colombian land rather than in the ocean?"

Westland shrugged. "Did you notice that they mentioned only four bodies, not five?"

"Yeah, I noticed." Riley looked her in the eyes. "I think Powers is still alive. When we get down there I want you to get a copy of that tape. We need to see if his is one of the bodies."

If Westland wondered what that had to do with hitting the Ring Man, she didn't mention it, for which Riley was grateful. Maybe she would go along with what he had planned. He stood up. "I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

Westland nodded wearily. "We board in ten minutes."

Riley walked down the curving corridor until he was out of sight of Westland. Then he went up to the first pay phone he saw. He rapidly punched in eleven numbers and waited for the operator. "I'd like to make a collect call. The name's Riley."

While he waited for the operator to make the connection, he prayed that someone would be home on the other end. Finally he heard the receiver lift and the answerer accept the charges. Riley was quick and to the point. "I can't talk long. I'm about to take a flight down south."

"Down south? Where you just were?"

"Roger that. Did you see the story about the video on the news?"

"Yes."

"I think he's alive."

"I agree."

"Do you know what my status is right now?"

"No. You're not going down there on your own, are you?"

"No. It's worse than that. I'm being sponsored by you know who. You need to check on what Department of the Army has to say about my status. I think I'm going to need your help. This thing is really flaky."

"Whatever you need, you got. I'll check on my end. If you have to talk to me from down there, you might be able to use the STU-III at the embassy if you can get to it. The army military attaché may be able to help you—he's a good man."

Riley prepared to hang up. "I've got to go. I'll be in contact."

"Hold on a second! Just one thing. What do they want you to do?"

"Terminate the Ring Man."

"Jesus! You're going to need help. I'll see what I can work on up here."

"Thanks. But make it quick. I only have till Thursday night." Riley hung up.

CHAPTER TWENTY

TUESDAY, 3 SEPTEMBER

BOGOTA

1:18 A.M.

The hotel was three blocks away from the American embassy. American travelers did like to have the embassy close by, but Riley still felt that the close location showed some laziness on the part of the CIA. It did put Westland close enough to make contact with Jameson without much difficulty. She was set up to meet him later this morning at a nearby restaurant. At the meeting, hopefully, she'd coordinate pickup of the equipment Riley had requested.

At the moment she was unpacking her bag and storing the few clothes she had brought, while Riley stalked about the room, inspecting it. A queen-sized bed took up the middle of the room, and an old, stuffed armchair stood near the sliding, glass doors that opened onto their second-floor balcony. Riley glanced around the curtains. The balcony itself held two chairs and a tiny table. Their window looked out onto an alley rather than the main street. A drab modern office building dominated the view.

Riley turned back to face the room. Westland was perched on the edge of the bed. Riley didn't need to read minds to see that she obviously had something on hers.

"What do you want to do about sleeping arrangements?" she asked.

Riley smiled. That was by far the least of his worries right now.

"Personally I prefer sleeping. Unfortunately that's not in the cards tonight for me. You get some z's. I've got some things I've got to do."

Westland stood up. "Are you going to let me in on your plan? I am supposed to be your partner here."

Riley slid open the balcony door. "See you before dawn." Before she could get to the balcony he had swung over the railing and dropped to the deserted alley below.

He glanced back once before he turned the corner and saw her silhouetted against the light from the room. I'll have to talk to her about that, Riley mused, as he moved through the streets. He counted corners, following the directions he had memorized from the street map on the flight down.

It was cool in Bogota. Over eight thousand feet in altitude made for a significant drop in the temperature compared to the coastal plain. Riley zipped his black windbreaker up to his neck. He wore an old pair of loose-fitting jeans, a gray New York Knicks T-shirt, and a pair of beat-up work boots. The boots were a special design custom-made for him during a tour of duty in Korea. The toes were pointed and reinforced with steel. Thin steel reinforcing ridges were placed under the rubber sole along the outside edges. They weren't the most comfortable things to wear but were quiet and devastating when used as weapons, amplifying the effects of his kicks.

Riley felt as though he was back home in the South Bronx, running the streets. In the South Bronx, late at night, the police didn't respond to trouble and those who went out were on their own. Bogota had that same feeling of lawlessness. People did what they had to do to survive—the strong ruled at night and the weak hid. Riley planned on being one of the former.

Turning a final corner, Riley spotted his destination. He had considered various plans of action, but realizing that time was short, he decided on the direct approach. He went up to the doors of the Embassy Cafe and pushed them open.

An aging Colombian man, one side of his face lined with an old scar, looked up from where he was mopping the floor. "I'm closed," he said in Spanish.

Riley took in the rest of the bar. Perfect. It was just the two of them. He replied in the same language. "That's all right. I'm not thirsty."

The man looked up at the strange accent. "You are not from here. Are you a gringo?"

"I'm from New York. I have business down here."

The man's interest went back to the floor. Another goddamn gringo— probably from the embassy, although he spoke pretty good Spanish and looked native. The old man filed the information away for possible future use. "I am still closed."

Riley walked over to the bar and took a stool. "I'm looking for someone and thought you might be able to help."

The man continued his work and spoke in a weary monotone. "I am not open. I cannot serve you. There is nothing else I can do for you."

Riley placed $50 U.S. on the bar.

The man glanced up but didn't stop his listless mopping. "I do not work for Americans. Go back across the street to your little hole."

"I am not from the embassy. I just flew in tonight from my home in New York. The name's Martinez. I heard you might be able to put me in contact with someone who can give me the information I need."

The man hung the mop on the wall and trudged behind the bar. With a swipe of his rag the $50 disappeared. "Who?"

"A woman named Maria."

The old man regarded him for a few seconds. "What can she tell you?"

"I need information on babies."

"Babies?" The old man raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Babies."

The old man shook his head. The Ring Man didn't deal in babies and he surely would not like an American asking about Maria. These gringos were crazy. "Come back tomorrow at one in the afternoon."

Riley nodded his appreciation and headed for the door. It wasn't likely that the old man knew what Maria had been doing there, but Riley was sure of one thing. The word that a strange American was looking for Maria would be forwarded to somebody. With any luck he'd find out who tomorrow.

6:25 A.M.

Westland practically stepped on Riley as she slid out of bed. He was lying on the floor on the bathroom side of the bed, covered by a light blanket. She looked at him sleeping there for a few seconds. She hadn't heard him come in. It was a scary feeling knowing that someone could enter the room without her even knowing it.

She threw on her robe and padded quietly into the bathroom. When she came back out, Riley was dressed and seated at the small table on the balcony.

"I've already ordered from room service. Left the little card on the door. Should be here in about five minutes."

"What time did you get in?"

"About two thirty."

"Where did you go?"

"Checking on some things."

Westland took a deep, exasperated breath. "Are we going to play twenty questions? Are you going to let me in on the plan? We are—"

She was interrupted by a knock on the door. Riley got up and squeezed past her. "Excuse me."

He opened the door and relieved the bellboy of his tray. He carried it past her and laid it on the table. Westland stared at him while he prepared his coffee and took a satisfying sip. "Ah. I'm not worth a damn until I get some coffee in me." He waved at the other chair. "Care to join me?"

Westland gave up. She slumped down into the chair and poured herself a cup.

Riley took another drink and then turned to her. "All right. I'll tell you as much as you need to know. First off, like I told you last night, I don't think Powers is dead. Finding him is my number one priority. I wouldn't even be telling you that if I didn't think I could trust you not to squeal on me.

"Second, I'm going to have a hell of a time trying to take out the Ring Man the way things stand right now. He's sitting in a defensive position. I have to go attack him. In military terms it's considered appropriate to have a force superiority of three to one when attacking someone in an established defensive position. In case you haven't noticed, we don't quite have that, so I figure we have to try another approach."

"What's the plan?"

Riley shrugged. "Haven't quite figured that out yet. Depends on what happens. We're going to have to play this by ear and react quickly when we get an opening. There's a lot of forces in motion down here and we have to try to arrange them in our favor as much as possible. I'm going to do some pushing and see what pushes back.

"I pushed the first button last night, and we'll see today if there's any reaction. The information you can hopefully get from your contact this morning will be a big help and fill in some of the missing pieces. That should give us some more buttons to push.

"As far as agenda goes, all I know right now is that you go to a meet in a half hour. I go to another meeting at one today with someone who might give us a link to the woman Stevens was seeing. Tonight I head into the hills to take a look at Ring Man's villa."

Riley took another sip of his coffee. "By the way, you look pretty good early in the morning."

RING MAN'S VILLA,

OUTSKIRTS OF BOGOTA

8:30 A.M.

Ponte acted as chief of staff for Ring Man. Everything going in and out went through him. In performing this role he also accrued a certain degree of power in that he could, within limits set by the Ring Man's volatile temper, screen that information as he saw fit and take action in the name of the Ring Man.

The story of the strange American in the Embassy Cafe was just one of many intelligence reports forwarded to Ponte's desk by a network of informants this morning. Ponte puzzled over it for a few seconds. He decided that the Ring Man had more important things to worry about. Ponte would take care of it himself.

He called in one of Ring Man's sicarios. Pablo was a little smarter than the average gunman and Ponte felt he could trust him with some simple instructions on how to deal with the American. The Americans had started the war by attacking them. It was time for some more payback.

BOGOTA

10:00 A.M.

Kate threw her bag in the corner of the room and dropped into the armchair with a sigh. Riley raised an eyebrow from where he was reclining on the bed. "Get anything good from the contact?"

She nodded. "He didn't have answers for all your questions, but he did give me some information."