Eyes of the Hammer (The Green Berets) (37 page)

"I don't work for the DEA. I'm here on my own. What about Maria? I was told she might be able to get me in contact with someone who could help us." Riley looked at the man beseechingly. "You understand, my friend. It is my wife. She is unable to have children and she wants to have a child so badly."

The big man shook his head. "There is nothing Maria can do for you. Who gave you her name?"

"An American marine who used to be stationed at the embassy told my brother, who is also in the marines."

The big man laughed. "You tell a good story. I am going to feel sorry to hurt such a good storyteller. Maybe we cut out your tongue so you not tell any more stories."

The big man turned to his partner. "Do you want to take care of him or should I? Ah, he is too small for me. He's yours."

The knife man smiled. "Thanks." He reached back under his shirt to retrieve his knife.

Riley's crescent kick caught the man on the side of the head before the knife had even cleared the shirt. He dropped with a loud thump onto a table and rolled to the floor, unconscious. The big man was still in the process of reaching for his gun when Riley's side kick caught him in the ribs. Riley heard the crack as two of the man's ribs splintered under his steel-edged boots.

Riley stepped up and watched as the big man painfully straightened and tried for his gun again. He snapped a front kick into the man's crotch, and as it doubled him over, caught the man's face on its downward motion with his opposite knee. A satisfying splat told him he'd broken the man's nose.

Riley rolled the big man onto his back and pulled the gun from under his sweatshirt. A Colt Python revolver. Riley tucked the gun under his own shirt. Then he placed his boot on the big man's neck. He spoke in Spanish. "If you carry a gun you should put it someplace where you can get to it more quickly. That's free advice. You should also learn to be more friendly. I am going to ask you some questions and I want answers. It will make everything much nicer for all involved if you answer with the truth."

"Fuck you!" The big man spat. Blood was seeping from his nose, covering his face.

Riley removed his foot from the man's neck and jabbed it straight into his side, nudging the broken ribs. The man groaned and rolled, trying to protect himself.

Riley glanced at the door. Even if the kid didn't check in, he knew he was running out of time. He went over to the unconscious sicario and removed the knife from under the man's shirt. It was a Randall hunting knife with an eight-inch blade. Only one cutting edge but honed razor sharp.

The big man was making an attempt to get to his feet. Riley stomped the inside of his boot onto the outside of the man's knee. He screamed as the cartilage gave way and crumpled onto the floor.

"I need to find Maria." Riley held the knife to the man's throat.

"Fuck you!" The big man tried spitting at him.

Rather limited vocabulary, Riley thought. He also knew the kid outside had undoubtedly heard the yell. He just hoped the boy would assume it was the American doing the screaming as the sicarios worked him over.

Riley pressed the knife harder into the big man's throat, drawing blood. "I need to find Maria. I'll kill you if you don't tell me where she is."

"Fuck you, gringo. I know you won't kill me. You're one of those motherfucking drug enforcement scum. You'd better catch a flight for home before I kill you."

Big words for a bleeding man, Riley thought. Playtime's over. Riley turned and strode across to the unconscious man. He placed the knife under the man's jaw, pointing up. "Hey!" he called to the big man. Waiting until the sicario had focused on him, Riley put the weight of his body on the handle and shoved the blade up through the unconscious man's jaw into his brain. The body twitched violently for a second and then was still.

The big man's eyes bulged. "You're crazy, you fucker!"

Riley pulled the knife back out and wiped it clean on the dead man's shirt. He cut the dead man's belt and relieved the body of the knife scabbard. The pungent odor of the corpse's released bowels filled the cafe.

Riley stepped back in front of the big man. He stomped down, breaking the man's right hand. The sicario backed himself into a corner and put his arms up, right hand dangling, to defend himself.

"Maria!" Riley hissed. He pulled out the gun and pointed it.

The big man was frantic in his attempt to talk. "I don't know where she is. I swear!"

Riley tried another tack. "What about the DEA man, Stevens?"

"I don't know. I swear on my mother!"

"Too bad. Sucks being shot by your own gun. Kind of adds embarrassment to the whole thing. Besides being dead, of course." Riley cocked the pistol.

"Try the warehouse!"

Riley uncocked the gun. "What warehouse?"

"About two maybe three kilometers out of the city on the north mountain road—route 46. It says International Coffee Shipping and Receiving on the outside. It's a big brown building. You cannot miss it. It's off to the right, about a hundred meters from the road."

Riley put the gun in his waistband and the sicario breathed a deep sigh of relief. Riley reached down and grabbed the top of the big man's head with one hand, placing his other forearm under the man's neck and tilting the head so he could look into his eyes. "One last question, my friend, and then I go. Do you know anything about the American soldier who was captured?"

The man rolled his eyes, obviously confused. "American soldier? I know nothing of that. Please, I have told you everything."

Riley nodded. He rotated his forearm upward from the elbow, levering the big man's jaw while keeping a tight grip with his other hand on the top of the man's head. The man's eyes showed a moment of panic before the crack of his neck caused them to lose their focus.

Riley stood up to leave. To his surprise he found he was trembling.

2:47 P.M.

Riley slid the key into the lock and swung the door open. Westland looked up from the bed where she was reading one of the local papers. "What's the matter? You don't look so good."

Riley shut the door and went over to the armchair, sinking down into its comfort. He drew the Colt Python out from under his shirt and tossed it on the bed. "You keep that."

Westland picked up the revolver and checked the load. "Am I going to need it?"

Riley shrugged. "Might. Might not. It's started."

"What's started?"

"The fun and games. I ran into two of Ring Man's thugs. They're the ones who donated the gun and this knife," he said, pulling up his shirt to show the scabbard.

"Where are they now?"

"They're dead."

"Dead?"

"Yeah, dead," Riley snapped. "I killed them."

Westland stared at him, not quite sure what to say. "What happened?"

Riley took a deep breath. He knew he needed to level with her, particularly since he had realized, while on the way back to the room, that he had made a mistake. A mistake that might lead the Ring Man's thugs right to this room.

"Let me start from the beginning. Last night I went to the Embassy Cafe and told the man working there that I was looking for Maria. Since Maria obviously works for Ring Man, I figured this would get some sort of reaction from his people. Something that might help me find either her or Stevens.

"The man told me to be there today at one. That's when and where I ran into the two goons. They thought I was DEA, and they were probably under orders to rough me up. I preempted them. In the process of that, and trying to get some information, I had to kill them both.

"Shit!" Riley slammed his fist into the arm of the chair. "That's not the whole truth. I didn't have to kill them in the fight. I killed the first one to let the second know I meant business to make him talk. I killed the second one because I didn't want him going back and reporting what he'd told me. I got a lead on Maria and I need to follow it up tonight before they can react." Killing two men still didn't sit right with Riley, even though they would just as easily have killed him and had obviously planned on at least hurting him badly.

Westland sensed his distress. She came over and put her hand on his shoulder. "Remember what you told me on the plane? This is war. We've got to be as hard as they are."

"Yeah, I know. It's just that I'm not used to killing people in cold blood."

"I hope you never get used to it. That's what separates you from them."

Riley looked up at her. He appreciated her concern and support. "You know, Kate, I hope when this is all over, you and I have some time to get to know each other."

She smiled and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "I hope so too."

"I'll take you up to the Bronx and show you the part of the city you didn't see at NYU. I'll also introduce you to my Mom. I think you'd like each other."

But, Riley thought, we don't have time to even talk much right now. "There's something else you should know. When I talked to the guy in the bar last night I made a mistake. I told him I had just flown in from New York and that I was with my wife. I gave him a false name but that still might be enough for Ring Man's people to get a line on us. That's one of the reasons I want you to have the gun."

"Do you think we should move?"

Riley shook his head. "If they're going to track us off the airline manifest, looking for a man and his wife from New York, they'll check all the hotels. This is as good as any. We'd have to use our cover names off the passports in order to check in anyplace else too. We just need to be more careful. We only have two more days."

PENTAGON

8:57 P.M.

Pike's office in the Pentagon was buried in the basement, indicating that his position as head army staff officer for DCSOP-SO didn't rank very high. The best offices were on the main floor and on the outermost, or E-ring, of the building. Being in the basement near the heating plant wasn't the place for on-the-go officers.

Pike took a break from making calls on his secure STU-III phone and contemplated the marvels of military bureaucracy for a few moments. Despite the fact that a little over twenty-four hours ago he had basically told the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff to go screw himself, here he was still sitting in his office and still wearing his star on each shoulder.

Pike knew the reason for this wasn't that the chairman had had a change of heart. The reason was that nothing in the Pentagon, or the army for that matter, worked quickly and everything was compartmentalized. Somewhere over his head, Pike was sure, was a note from the chairman stating that one Col. Michael Pike (temporarily breveted to brigadier general) was to retire as soon as it could be expedited. Pike was just as sure that the memo made no mention of the events of the last several days.

From his twenty-nine years of wrestling with military paperwork, Pike estimated he had about two weeks before that memo was translated into retirement orders. In the meantime, Pike was considered by his colleagues to be in the same position, and still breveted to Flag rank.

Pike was utilizing this situation to his advantage. He had already found out more information than he'd thought he could. The mention that a general was on the phone personally and wanted some information often got results. Plus, Pike had an extensive network of old acquaintances throughout the military and intelligence communities who owed him favors.

He had already traced the orders placing Riley under the operational control of the Central Intelligence Agency. The CIA's Pentagon liaison had gotten the deputy chief of staff for intelligence, G-2, to hack off on the request and then had one of the G-1 (personnel) people hand carry it over to military personnel headquartered down the road in Alexandria to get the classified orders cut. Pike figured that the G-2 had owed the CIA representative a favor, or now one was owed the other way, but he was sure that no one in the army knew the reason for Riley's transfer of control.

The orders themselves were classified and Pike had not been able to get a copy. He could well guess what was written on them, since he had seen those types of orders several times in his service with Delta Force. Basically they would say nothing about the reason for the transfer and would consist only of a start date, with the ending date left blank.

Pike also had found out the present location of Ring Man. A few calls to old friends in the Defense Intelligence Agency had produced the information about the CIA's request for satellite surveillance on the Ring Man's villa. Pike had called in a big favor and had had copies of the imagery faxed to him over the secure line from Fort Meade, where the National Security Agency had its headquarters.

Pike looked at the pictures laid out across his desk. If the CIA expected Riley to hit the Ring Man at that location, they were stupider than he had always thought they were. One man going against that place was suicide.

Of course, Pike smiled to himself, it wasn't just one man. His inquiries with some retired Special Forces men working at the agency indicated that Westland was with Riley. Pike had been impressed with the young woman during the time they worked together. He hoped she got out of this mess all right.