Eyes of the Hammer (The Green Berets) (45 page)

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 get 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.

Ring Man had another thought of even more importance. "What do you think of taking out Alegre?"

Ariel considered his answer carefully. He knew that Ponte had advised against it and that the Ring Man hadn't been pleased with that answer. On the other hand Ariel was smart enough to realize that the Ring Man's ambitions of running the country were a little too lofty for the present circumstances; nor did he understand them. Wasn't becoming the head of the multibillion-dollar-a-year drug cartel enough for the man?

"That is a very difficult target, sir. The presidential guard is a good unit and we have been unable to penetrate it with one of our men. Alegre has not left the palace since this started."

Ring Man wanted action, not talk. "I know all that. I want you to find a way to get to him."

PRESIDENTIAL PALACE, BOGOTA

10:58 P.M.

Alegre was fuming after the brief meeting with Strom. As the door shut behind the American he turned to Montez. "Do you believe that American pig has the balls to come in here and threaten me?"

Montez shook his head. He didn't like it either, but he knew it was time to face reality. They'd taken their chances and been burned. With the audiotapes of the last meeting Jameson had had with Alegre, the Americans stood a good chance of making Alegre out to be a liar if he tried to use the Hammer missions as blackmail. Montez had sensed something funny about the meeting on Monday with the American agent. Now he knew that Jameson had insisted on the meeting in order to get Alegre on tape authorizing the killing. The Americans were using that as counter blackmail, effectively neutralizing Alegre's threat of exposure.

Alegre was feeling the growing pressure from the cartel, but he wasn't ready to quit. "We must stop Ring Man. He's the main threat now, especially since Ramirez was killed this morning. If the Americans will not do it, I will do it directly. I am going to upgrade from a state of emergency to a state of siege."

Montez knew that was the next logical step for the president if he wanted to truly fight the cartel. Unfortunately, it also ignored the reality of what would happen. Under the official title of state of siege, Alegre could suspend civil law. It gave the president more power than the present state of emergency. But they also had to consider the unwritten law of Colombian politics. For every action Alegre took, the cartel would react with increasing violence.

Between the cartel, the guerrillas, and a government crackdown, Montez could envision a return to the days of la violencia, the period during the 1940s and 1950s when Colombia was almost torn apart by a vicious, undeclared civil war. The numbers of casualties from this violence ranged anywhere from 100,000 to 300,000, depending on who was doing the estimating. The specter of that happening again was enough to chill the heart of any thinking person.

Montez decided to make another attempt to talk some reason into the president. "If you announce a state of siege, we cannot be sure how the people will react. There is already a great amount of discontent. We have pushed this war with the cartel to its limit now. If we push farther we run the risk of alienating the people.

"We must give the development of our sea bottom rights in the Gulf of Venezuela time to mature. You won a great victory there. We must allow time for the people to see that we have an alternative to the drug business. Time for that project to help the economy. If you go to a state of siege, the cartel and guerrillas will tear this country apart."

Alegre stared at his top adviser. "What do you suggest I do? Give in?"

Montez tried placating his friend. "Not give in. But we must play for time. You tried to defeat the cartel and—"

Alegre pounded his desk. "We still can defeat them. I will use the army under the state of siege provisions."

It was time for the president to crash on the harsh rocks of reality. "The army will not fight the cartel," Montez argued. "Not all the way. They'll do police work and fight some of the lesser dealers, but they will not go against the main body of the cartel. Not until we have an alternative for the people, and not until we can solve the guerrilla problem."

Alegre stared at his old friend. "Are you saying you will not support me on this?"

"You are my friend and my president, but I must do what is right for the country. If you pursue this course of action, I believe you doom this country to a period like la violencia. I do not want to see that again. I cannot support you on this."

Alegre's shoulders slumped. If even his friend Montez would not support him, he knew he stood little chance with the army. "What do you suggest we do?"