Full Assault Mode (40 page)

Carlos perked up immediately. More than anyone else in the organization, he had the most riding on Kolt. Everyone knew Carlos was Kolt’s handler. They also knew that if a handler’s asset completed an unprecedented mission like taking out Zawahiri, then the handler was looking at a quick promotion and a healthy bonus.

But Carlos wasn’t thinking that pettily at the moment. Sure, he was concerned about whether Kolt had accomplished his mission, but he was also concerned about Kolt’s personal health. Everyone knew that 0706 was to locate Nadal the Romanian and, hopefully, to blend into his cell enough to learn the nuke plot. He was also under orders from Tungsten to take appropriate action should he come across Zawahiri; that was his first priority. That action being to terminate in cold blood. Then, and only then, was 0706 to seek extraction. Assuming he was even still alive.

Carlos couldn’t help himself.

“Sir, given the extraction protocol, has anyone confirmed if zero-seven-zero-six completed his mission?” Carlos asked as everyone looked toward him as if he was crazy for interrupting the director’s train of thought. Carlos figured that since Kolt was exfilling after less than two weeks in Pakistan, he had quite possibly located Zawahiri. And maybe, just maybe, he took the terrorist leader out.

Pushing his luck a bit, Carlos quickly said, “And which mission did he complete?”

Admiral Mason didn’t turn his head but cut his eyes toward Carlos in the back corner of the room. He wanted to respond with the guy’s name first, but he couldn’t remember if it was Carl or Carlton.

“Negative. I mean, no. I have no confirmed information that he completed his mission.”

Carlos continued as if the two of them were the only two people in the room.

“So zero-seven-zero-six didn’t locate Nadal the Romanian and didn’t locate al-Zawahiri?” Carlos asked. “Why would he exfil, then, sir?”

Director Mason ignored the question and looked toward the small seated audience of Tungsten’s top deputies. These were the same guys, and a couple of ladies, who had appreciated Kolt’s thought process and efforts to accomplish his mission at Cherokee. They seemed to be fully seated in Kolt’s corner. Carlos knew it. Mason sensed it.

“Our assets in Kabul to brief the chief of station are en route to Jalalabad,” Mason said. “We’ll know for sure in a few hours, tops.”

Jalalabad, Afghanistan

Lieutenant General Seth Allen, the current JSOC commanding general, wasn’t impressed. The barrel-chested West Point grad and army three-star knew he wasn’t getting the full story. Not from the guy for whom he risked sending a force of very scarce helicopters and elite troops to recover across the border in Pakistan earlier that morning. Not from the mystery men dressed in part–Afghan slum, part–5.11 Tactical who had arrived a few hours ago from Kabul.

Like his predecessor, Admiral Bill Mason, Lieutenant General Allen had been read on to Tungsten’s existence. But that’s where it ended. Allen knew nothing of the program’s details, who pulled its strings, or who padded its pockets. Sure, he had his assumptions, but now his smooth-running, war-fighting operations tempo had been interrupted, and he wanted answers.

As General Allen sat uncomfortably inside his large tent-and-plywood command center, he evil-eyed the secret squirrel strangers. They had to be twenty years his junior and almost certainly CIA. In Tungsten circles, their official title was that of savior. The two, who were also strangers to Kolt Raynor, had deployed to Kabul to secretly brief the CIA’s chief of station about the potential to kill or capture Zawahiri.

The general squirmed in the brown folding chair, trying to find comfort. To his guests from Kabul, he seemed almost bored by the details.

“Say that again one more time,” General Allen said as he leaned forward on his elbows and pushed his coffee mug slightly to the side.

“General Allen, sir, you fully understand this is a top-secret special-access program,” the stranger in the long dark coat and 5.11 khaki britches said in a slightly demeaning tone. “We are not authorized to divulge any more than is absolutely necessary to get the job done.”

“Let me get this straight.” The general leaned back in his chair and clasped his fingers together as he placed them on the top of his head. “You wanted me to stop what this task force was doing and spin up a fixed-wing cross-border air-assault raid into Pakistani airspace to roll up a man whose name you aren’t even going to tell me? No pictures? No habits? Not even his favorite color or flavor of ice cream?”

“Your point is well taken, General,” the shorter of the two visitors replied.

“You’re damned right the point is taken!” General Allen barked as he leaned forward in his chair.

The general lazily pointed toward Kolt. “Before we even break for breakfast, gentlemen, I want to know what the fuck is going on with Major Raynor here.”

Taken back by the general’s reference to Kolt’s true name, the taller Tungsten official spoke up. “General, I know this must seem a little unorthodox to you.”

“A little?” The general huffed. “This is a fucking circus.”

“Sir, I am not at liberty to divulge this gentleman’s exact mission. Suffice to say, he is on an executive-level, priority, singleton mission for the United States of America,” the taller savior said with as much conviction as he could muster and using as many high-level buzzwords as he could spit out without compromising Kolt’s mission.

General Allen was a seasoned operator. He knew as well as anyone how things worked in Washington, and he certainly understood and respected established protocol. “OK, fella, what’s his target? What’s his mission?”

“His target is the senior leadership of AQ,” the Tungsten savior replied.

“Bullshit!” the general bellowed. “How can this guy find the needle in the haystack that this very task force and the world’s entire intelligence apparatus combined haven’t been able to locate in the last twelve, thirteen years?”

Kolt knew the general’s reputation. Special operations was a very small community. He figured it was no surprise they knew of his mission. After all, word travels fast when a former unit member is plucked out of Pakistan by a bunch of his former coworkers.

*   *   *

Kolt stood up, more for effect than anything else, and walked over to the general’s table. He leaned on the front edge and looked the general in the eye and smiled slightly. “Sir, it’s no longer Major Raynor, but I’m humbled by the reference.”

Kolt continued. “A few days ago I stood within an arm’s reach of Ayman al-Zawahiri.”

“Where?” the general quickly asked. “Near Quetta?”

“Yes, sir,” Kolt answered calmly, almost surprised that the general didn’t call him a flat-out liar. “A small village in Gulistan, west of Quetta.”

“Gulistan?” The general was astonished. “Where is the intel? What proof do you have?”

Here it comes, Kolt thought. Before he could answer, one of the saviors stepped forward and interrupted them.

“General, you can appreciate the fact that we can’t discuss any further details,” he said very formally. “We don’t have the authority, and frankly, sir, you don’t have a need to know just yet.”

The general stood immediately. “What kind of candy-ass game do you guys think you are playing here?”

His face turned red, and his eyebrows narrowed to a point above his nose. “Is this some kind of State Department dick dance or something?”

The savior answered professionally. “Sir, you know that is not the case.” He continued. “I think it is best if you speak directly to our director. I can arrange a secure line through to Ambassador Mason.”

“Mason?” the general asked, obviously shocked by the news. “Retired Vice Admiral Bill Mason?”

If there was anyone in the room more shocked than the general by what the savior had just revealed, it was easily Kolt.
Did he just say Bill Mason?

Kolt turned his head quickly toward the savior sitting down. The savior looked back, somewhat startled by Kolt’s look. He had no idea Kolt didn’t know who the director of Tungsten was. Moreover, he had no knowledge of Kolt’s checkered past with Bill Mason.

Kolt turned back toward the general but didn’t respond. The savior still seated nodded in the affirmative as the speaking savior verbally confirmed Kolt’s worst nightmare.

“Yes, sir!”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the general said as he leaned back in his seat and looked toward Kolt. “That’s where that son of a bitch went to.”

*   *   *

It didn’t take long to arrange for the secure phone call between the current JSOC commander, General Seth Allen, and his predecessor in that same billet, the retired vice admiral Bill Mason, who sat comfortably at his desk in the Five Points neighborhood in downtown Atlanta. The JSOC commander’s last comments about Mason made Kolt wonder. He wasn’t sure if the general thought Mason was a jackass or if the two men were longtime buddies.

After a little catching up on the phone, Ambassador Mason and the general got down to business. In about ten minutes, Mason was ready to blow his stack. He had kind of hoped the general would provide a clue that Kolt had completed his mission of neutralizing Zawahiri. Instead, he only learned that Kolt had aborted his opportunity to do just that.

Admiral Mason had had about enough of Kolt Raynor for one career, but it seemed to the retired navy man that a change in uniform wasn’t enough to escape the escapades and shenanigans of the former maverick Delta troop commander.

“Raynor says he knows where HVI number one is,” General Allen said. “In a remote village west of Quetta, Pakistan, but he can’t provide any more details—rather, he won’t provide any more details.”

The general continued. “He says, and two of your central casting goons are saying, I need to launch into this village and kill or capture Zawahiri.”

Admiral Mason had to be careful. Notwithstanding their longtime friendship, he knew he couldn’t bullshit the general. Holding all the cards close to his chest was his only option. Besides, just as the savior told the general earlier, he didn’t have a need to know.

“Look, Seth, I need your help here. Raynor works for me, and that’s about all I can tell you. You’ll have to speak to the secretary of defense if you need to know anything else.”

“Yeah, Bill, I kinda got that feeling from your two henchmen who showed up from Kabul,” the general remarked. “Where did you get those characters, anyway?”

“Just go easy on those guys, will ya?” Mason asked. “And hold on to Raynor for me. I’ll get back to you within the hour.”

“Alright, Bill, but I’m going back to normal business around here in the meantime,” the general answered. “I’ll try to keep the circus your man has brought to town under control.”

My man?
Mason thought.
I guess he is
. “Thanks, Seth, I’ll be in touch.”

*   *   *

The National Command Authority wasn’t too happy with Tungsten’s report from Embed Asset 0706. Kolt’s revelation to the JSOC commander, Lieutenant General Seth Allen, that he had positively identified Zawahiri from as close as two feet away met with exasperation and discontent at the highest levels. At Tungsten’s Atlanta, Georgia, headquarters, Bill Mason took it as a personal embarrassment. For the second time in his life, he took an ass chewing over a secure line from the vice president. Both times, he had Kolt Raynor to thank for it.

Kolt’s decision to temporarily divert from his primary mission to some half-baked United States–based terrorist attack was pretty Delta-like. More specifically, it was very much Kolt-like. His file was full of actions like this. Robin Hood–like acts where the decision of right and wrong, good versus evil, execute or abort was saved solely for him.

Ambassador Bill Mason, lacking any further details, considered these acts nothing more than fuel for the arrogant personal self-interest of Kolt Raynor. But, as usual, Kolt saw things differently. According to him, he was acting exactly how a warrior should. And to Kolt, if you didn’t carry warrior creds yourself, you should not be second-guessing someone who does.

Around a beautiful mahogany table, in the same boardroom in which Carlos talked Kolt into taking on Shadow Blink, Tungsten’s senior staff—not a warrior in the bunch—openly questioned Kolt’s actions. The room was full of slightly overweight coffee drinkers trading snide comments and cries of failure. What was he thinking? Why didn’t he execute the mission? Carlos and the psychs at Tungsten, though, were less worried. They knew Kolt’s file best. After all, it was their job to
handle
him.

The Tungsten psych reminded the group of this type of consistent behavior in Kolt’s profile. He wasn’t surprised that Kolt would make a decision like this and openly questioned why anyone would expect otherwise. To hold off on his priority mission in order to save the lives of others was characteristic of Kolt according to the records kept by the Delta psych Doc Johnson for many years. The problem now was that the Tungsten psych actually read the entire inch-thick file. He wondered if anyone else had and pondered, Who could question a man in Kolt’s position?

Ambassador Mason could. He had been surprised that Kolt was recruited into Tungsten in the first place. But he wasn’t surprised that Kolt chose what rules to follow and which ones to ignore. Deep down, Mason blamed Kolt for his early retirement from the navy. He also blamed Kolt for his not being named Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff—a position Mason had politicked for years for and one that came with a fourth shiny star. Mason was fully willing to grind the axe into the Kolt voodoo doll some more.

“This guy has always been a maverick of sorts. He likes to march to his own drummer,” the ambassador stated to the small crowd, obviously trying to impress everyone present that he didn’t need to read the file. He already knew all about Embed Asset 0706’s history and capability.

“How in the world did he ever get in this program?” he questioned pointedly. “Didn’t you guys read his performance file?” he demanded as he looked slowly around the room before locking eyes on the psychologist.

“Yes, sir, we did. Extensively so.” The Tungsten psych respectfully answered Bill Mason’s obviously rhetorical question. “That’s exactly why we recruited him. However, sir, with all due respect, zero-seven-zero-six is in seminal space here.”