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Hunt Wethers fired a report to Price’s tablet. It was from one of the Navy AWACS birds that regularly patrolled just outside Chinese airspace and over international waters. The craft had timed its patrol and observation of the Leizhou Peninsula specifically, knowing there was going to be a test firing of a new genus of the Dong-Feng 21 antiship ballistic missile.
Not coincidentally, the DF-21 variant was purported to possess a maximum velocity of Mach 10. At 35 feet long and 16 tons in weight, not only could it carry enough explosives to kill an aircraft carrier in one shot, it also had nuclear warhead capabilities and a range of 1100 miles.
Of course, the difference between a silo-launched ballistic missile and a more portable option such as the American design was phenomenal. Huge warhead capacities and high speeds were vital ingredients to altering a military balance. The Dong-Feng antiship variants were meant to provide the Chinese navy with utter superiority when it came time to reclaim the island nation of Taiwan. One missile could break an allied carrier apart; its nuclear variant could flash fry an entire carrier group.
Both ways were means of overwhelming any defense against Chinese military expansion.
The American missile system could be mounted on cruisers and fast-attack crafts, land-launched or carried on fighter-bombers. Just because both weapons systems had the ability to break Mach 10 was no reason to try to combine them. DF-2Xs reached Mach 10 because they rode on midrange ballistic missiles, rocket engines that were more than capable of launching satellites into orbit or delivering an MRV warhead. The American design was meant to deliver its warhead at such a high speed, and with such agility and accuracy, that the mass of the missile would provide penetration through even the thickest of hulls.
Of course, with the presence of an auction promising the latest and deadliest hardware, including just the things necessary to take out enemy fleets, Price couldn’t help but feel that more than coincidence was at work here. “Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.”
“Quoting Ian Fleming?” Aaron Kurtzman mused.
“Just trying to make certain I did the right thing allotting a Stony Man crew to this auction,” Price said.
“Two separate styles of carrier-killer test programs are attacked, and then someone advertises it?” Kurtzman asked. “You’ve got good instincts on this, Barb.”
She nodded, looking down at the screen of her tablet. So far, Stony Man had been fully capable of gathering all the information they could about the New Mexico attack, if only because the Sensitive Operations Group had many federal connections, both inside and outside conventional channels. China, however, was a very different situation, and tapping into their information had taken effort and penetration of high-security government systems. That Tokaido had located so much thus far was a sign of his skill and the power of the Farm’s cyber systems.
The auction had been confirmed through multiple sources, as well. Not only did Kevin Reising have his invitation, but there had been a rise in digital currency exchanges—peer-to-peer payments that didn’t pass through legitimate banking functions. That data-cash was being funneled to a website called the Arsenal Europa, which had been touting the auction. Discovering the auction had been the combined efforts of Wethers and Delahunt, both of whom utilized their particular, individual instincts to narrow the search to its confirmed presence.
They’d also managed to home in on a large supply of data-cash in storage under Reising’s accounts. The sums were substantial, well over fifty million dollars, allowing for more than a few high-tech, high-impact weapons. What a soldier for the Heathens outlaw motorcycle club would do with such a supply of cash made Price shudder.
Of course, a previous Able Team operation had established links between the Heathens and the Aryan Right Coalition, a white supremacist group that was actually the action arm of an even more shadowed organization that called itself the Arrangement.
The Arrangement had lost scores of men and millions of dollars in that conflict, but apparently that hadn’t been enough to set back the mystery group. Not if they could pony up that amount of funding to rearm and rebuild their shattered army.
“Hunt, do you have any more information about where Reising’s money came from or where it’s sitting right now?” Price asked.
The tall, slender, black professor looked up from his workstation. “Negative. Trying to dig into this data-cash network utilized by Reising is difficult, which is precisely why he chose it.”
“How so?” Price asked.
“Normally, I’d hope to find a centralized store of information, but the network itself is decentralized. It’s a mobile, mercurial entity. You need to have proper keys to locate your own money and allow transfer of funds. However, even going through those particular encryptions, you cannot access anything else. It’s like sticking your head into a disconnected pond and hoping to find a river to the nearest ocean,” Wethers explained.
“So, we’re up against, essentially, the Mississippi River Delta rather than looking for Lake Michigan,” Price said. “Instead of a box, we’re stuck with just a tube, which in itself doesn’t necessarily lead to another tube, even though it’s all one ever-increasing, ever-branching main artery.”
“Correct. This is the capillary system, which is useless without the arteries and veins, but while we can see an individual capillary, there’s no direct link, so we’re not even certain there is a heart. We could be in any organism,” Wethers explained.
Price winced. “Keep trying. This is the best we’ve got. I want to be able to figure out who Reising wanted to pay, but I also want to know where the money came from.”
“You will find no more tireless crusader and seeker of this information than I,” Wethers told Price.
Price looked at the clock in the corner of her tablet display. It was almost time to talk to Hal Brognola, the big Fed who’d helped to assemble the Sensitive Operations Group, alongside Mack Bolan, and who gave the Farm its legitimacy thanks to his high rank at the Department of Justice. Though not a cabinet secretary, Brognola often had the advantage of the President’s ear.
With that knowledge, she gave her cybernetic crew a quick goodbye and exited the Computer Room.
She opened the encryption on her tablet, clearing the rest of the data from both the screen and its random access memory. It was a paranoid habit, sterilizing the device of the full data she’d been accessing just for a telephone call, but the Farm had battled against major intelligence agencies and conspiracies with considerable hacking abilities.
“Barb,” Brognola said as his video call came through on her tablet.
“Hal.... So far, the capsules inside Carl, Gadgets and T.J. are still reporting normal vital signs,” Price informed him right off the bat.
Brognola had known Lyons and Schwarz for a long time, since even before the founding of the Sensitive Operations Group.
“These are the passive sensors, correct?” Brognola asked.
Price nodded. “We’ve got their location, as well. They simply can’t talk to us and we cannot warn them. Other than that—”
“Remember.” Brognola cut her off. “If things go to hell, you just have to remember, that’s Able Team and Phoenix Force already on the ground. To them, being surrounded just means they don’t have to watch their fire.”
Price smirked. “That’s one positive way of looking at it.”
“What about Blancanales and the rest of Phoenix?” Brognola asked.
“They’re currently in Hong Kong, checking in with David’s old girlfriend, Mei Anna,” Price said.
“Which is very iffy, considering China is an enemy state,” Brognola mused. “Though, technically, we’re working alongside them here.”
“The Ministry of State Security doesn’t know that, and even if they did, there’s still going to be a bit of bad blood between our two agencies if they figure out who McCarter and company are,” Price said. “Just a couple of weeks ago, Phoenix intercepted an MSS ‘fund-raising shipment’ of heroin and destroyed it.”
“If the MSS has more than a rumor of Phoenix Force’s existence, that would be bad. Very bad,” Brognola stated. “But there was no evidence of whom and what attacked that shipment, correct?”
“Correct,” Price returned. “It’s my job to see the worst-case scenario, however. So forgive me if I give you these kinds of cues.”
“It’s a shame that both teams are already deployed. I’d have loved to have someone on the ground in New Mexico just to get some hard data on the actual raid,” Brognola said.
Price could imagine Brognola’s jowled face turning into a grim frown. “So far, the Department of Defense investigators seem to be doing quite well on their own. We’re monitoring evidentiary data and field reports, and doing what we can to track down leads based on that data and feeding it back into the investigation. If something requires a ground response, we can always pull Phoenix off the current operation, or we can see if Striker is available.”
“We don’t usually get that opportunity,” Brognola returned. “But it’s worth a try. Anything on the China attacks?”
“The Gobi desert facility that was struck was the same one that test-fired the Dong-Feng-21 variant in 2013,” Price told him. “So we’re currently operating on the idea that the attackers were after the experimental ballistic missile designs. There’s a bit of disjoint, however.”
“The DF-21 and the American engine prototypes are incompatible,” Brognola concluded.
“Right. The DF gets so fast because it is riding atop an engine that can reach low orbit, while the American design is intended for nap-of-the-earth or wave-lapping altitude at Mach 10, necessitating the complex guidance systems,” Price affirmed. “The cybernetic team is currently aware of this disparity and is looking to see what else might have been there.”
Brognola grunted his receipt of the message. “I hope it’s just a missile system.”
“Just a missile system? The Dong-Fengs are nuclear capable,” Price stated.
Brognola’s grumble of worry was deeper now. “It’s not nuclear warheads that concern me. It’s something that sounds like it’s out of a James Bond novel.”
Price narrowed her eyes for a moment, trying to think of what Brognola was referring to. Then it hit her. “The BWMO—Beijing Weather Modification Office? That does sound like something out of the movies.”
“Like it or not, however, they’ve gotten very good at seeding clouds to produce rainfall,” Brognola stated. “All for the purposes of dispelling hailstorms and counteracting the advent of dust storms that affect Beijing itself.”
Price resisted the urge to open the Stony Man databases while on an outside call. What she did recall from the facts she knew, was that the BWMO utilized missile systems and cannons to seed clouds. With those shells and warheads, they’d been able to irrigate miles of arable land and protect it from hail damage utilizing materials such as aluminum oxide, barium or silver iodide.
Barium—that locked in Price’s mind. The material was naturally radioactive and, while it generally was not hazardous in a radiological manner or carcinogenic in water-soluble form, it was potentially poisonous. Its effects on the nervous system and muscle fibers were well documented, but as a serious weapon, the barium in even a concentration of seeder missiles or shells would prove wanting.
Seeded clouds could also be loaded with other hazardous materials, however. Price also couldn’t help but think that much of the concern over man-made climate change had no better source than manipulation of the weather of a half-million-square-mile area, barring pollution and natural volcanic ejecta.
“When I get in touch with David, I’ll have him check on that factor,” Price stated. “Either way, be it a MaRV warhead or weather manipulation, the potential for damage for each can be huge.”
“We’re not sure what was taken in China. Just that they released the cover story of a misfired missile,” Brognola reminded her. “It could have been something akin to what happened in New Mexico, where the inventors were taken. The wreckage is still being sorted through, isn’t it?”
“No assumptions are being made. Just keeping an eye on what could be coming down the pipe.”
“Let me know if anything pops up with Anna,” Brognola reminded her.
Price killed the connection and returned to the Computer Room. “Guys, one of you take a look into the Beijing Weather Modification Office to see what kind of materials and munitions they have on hand. Things might just get a lot more complicated now.”
“Weather modification,” Wethers mused out loud. “No stranger than Frankenstein-like organ hijacking, various forms of zombies and cannibal-psychosis-producing fungi.”
Tokaido cleared his throat. “Remember the time we saved the world from that weird shit?”
Delahunt smirked. “Remember? We call that Wednesday morning.”
“Enough shots from the peanut gallery. Carmen, you got the weird detail,” Kurtzman called out. “Barb, Phoenix is making contact now.”
Price nodded.
Hong Kong appeared on their computer screens. Kurtzman was watching local law-enforcement communications and Tokaido was checking for signal chatter among the more secretive groups. If things went to hell, Stony Man could watch. But only Phoenix Force could fight its own way out.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_fec3a27c-b68d-5c56-8cca-0776ab3e2aae)
David McCarter was alone on the streets of Hong Kong. While the initial plan was to have Phoenix Force act as cover and overwatch, that plan was not going to come to fruition. Five men, moving in a coordinated manner, would simply attract too much attention. Encizo and Blancanales were traveling as Argentine businessmen on a “busman’s holiday.” Manning and James were also in the role of tourist, this time both of them acting as Canadians.
Phoenix Force’s presence in the city was to be kept as low profile as anything, especially in regard to their operation on the Hong Kong docks, intercepting a shipment of heroin intended for American shores. Though the Stony Man computer crew looked for signs that the team had been recognized and was on watch lists, McCarter was still in a paranoid mood. It had been a classic Phoenix Force raid, full of fire and thunder, ending with his team disappearing into the shadows like smoke.
The Ministry of State Security had been both ally and enemy in the past, as corrupt entities within the agency had been keen on getting funding that didn’t tie directly to Chinese taxpayers. The destruction in society caused by drug-related crime was merely a side benefit. As Phoenix Force’s leader, McCarter had encountered enough American and British-run rogue operations to know that “his side” was no more innocent than the Red Chinese. Even so, the MSS was primarily concerned with the state, not the countries in competition with them, and certainly not foreign citizens.
McCarter finally reached the bar where he planned to meet Mei Anna. Ever since first working together in a mission to Hong Kong a few years ago, McCarter and Mei had been attracted to each other and had maintained a long-distance romance. It was one of the longer intimate relationships the Briton had engaged in, made slightly more difficult because of Mei’s professional obligations, not to mention McCarter’s constant vigilance and need as a member of Phoenix Force. Even so, Mei proved to be invaluable in dealing with Chinese situations; her linguistic skills were, naturally, better than McCarter’s own smattering of understanding.
He sidled up to the bar and ordered a bottle of Tsingtao for himself. While on the scene in Hong Kong, none of the team was armed, at least in terms of firearms. McCarter still had a folding pocket knife, as well as various flat, polycarbonate utensils. One was a D-shaped hand device that had a smaller projection straight out the back of the D. When McCarter wrapped his hand around it, a short cylindrical point jutted between his middle and ring fingers. That tip would concentrate the force of the Briton’s punch to the point where it could shatter bone. Neither it nor his concealed knife would be a match for an AK-47 blazing away at him, but if McCarter couldn’t go toe to toe, he’d fight from ambush and concealment. One broken trachea could equal a rifle and thirty rounds in his hands to even up the odds.
It was an absolute worst-case scenario, but Phoenix Force was always called in when the worst went down anyway. It was intellect, preparation and prowess that made up for lack of manpower and firepower in these desperate instances.
“Hey, stranger.” A soft, gentle voice spoke to his right.
McCarter swiveled on his seat, broadly grinning, his smile a beam as he beheld Mei Anna. She was deceptively small and sweet-looking, her hair in a pixie cut, a shoulder-padded jacket hanging open to reveal the silk slip that displayed her décolletage and would likely draw eyes away from what surprises she had on hand for an emergency. He slipped off the stool and slid his arms under hers, stooping so that their lips met, briefly yet intensely.
McCarter rose from the kiss and she followed it with a tight hug. In an instant his jacket pocket grew heavier and Mei gave him a quick wink.
“What’s new, Tiger Lily?” McCarter asked with a grin. On the few moments when they either weren’t working together or lost in the throes of intimacy, Mei and the Briton took a little time together to watch favorite movies. The rewritten espionage thriller redubbed as a comedy that McCarter referenced was one of those. So much so, it had become their unofficial greeting.
Mei climbed onto the stool next to McCarter, raised two fingers and didn’t even have to voice her order. McCarter returned to sitting, as well, taking a sip from his beer. The bartender returned with a pair of cocktails and an extra bottle of beer.
“You know these are delicious, so I can’t tell you they are new,” Mei said, lifting her cocktails. “Bring your beer, we’ll head to a booth.”
The bar itself was active but not crowded. There was certainly a good screen of background noise, but with no throng of bodies pressed together, the two of them could move easily to a quiet booth and not fear that the press of humanity could listen in on them.
As soon as they scuttled into the booth, side by side so that McCarter could wrap his arm around her shoulders, so he could feel the warmth of her against him, he set a quick kiss on the top of her head, enjoying the smell of her hair. She looked up at him, almond-shaped, deep brown eyes regarding him with affection. He could also feel a tension in her.
“What’s new is some seriously screwed-up stuff,” Mei said softly. “I’m assuming this sudden date is because of the troubles near Beijing?”
“Gobi Desert testing institute,” McCarter said. He reached into the pocket that Mei had filled and felt the outline of a small revolver, already snugged into a pocket holster. Hook and loop material clutched the inside of the jacket pocket so he couldn’t draw the revolver and look like an idiot pulling the leather sheath with it. “Thanks, by the way.”
Mei wrinkled her nose. “I couldn’t bring a Hi-Power...couldn’t fit it in my clutch.”
“So what happened up north?” McCarter asked.
Mei held her tongue for a moment, looking as if she didn’t want to say exactly. “Have you heard of the Beijing Weather Modification Office?”
“Yup,” McCarter answered. He didn’t say that Price had thrown him an encrypted text mentioning the possible involvement of the agency before he arrived at the bar. “Personally, I always wondered why they assigned almost forty thousand blokes to a rainmaking operation.”
“They are effective,” Mei returned. “They’ve done a hell of a lot of work.”
“And some of it might just be weaponized weather?” McCarter asked.
Mei nodded.
“Far be it from me to be skeptical, especially in the wake of taking out the Dragon’s Eye, a laser that could have leveled Taiwan, but how can cloud seeding and hailstorm busting be that much of a threat?” McCarter asked. “I realize that playing around with the climate on the scale of the nation of China could affect world climate patterns, but no rainstorm is going to take out an aircraft carrier group.”
“No, you would need something along the lines of a hurricane,” Mei returned.
That hit McCarter like a lump of iron slag in the stomach. “Hurricane? How?”
“In Taiwan, we were aware of the possibilities that China was working on a Massive Ordnance Air Burst explosive as a possible aircraft-carrier-killing missile. Enough to destroy the ship and perhaps cripple the support craft around it, without being an actual nuclear attack,” Mei said.
McCarter was familiar with the MOAB, a thermobaric explosive that came in two parts. One being a burst that diffused inflammable fuel or explosive dust over a large area, while the second ignited the aerosolized cloud, which itself would detonate. With a large dome of fire detonating, it would produce enormous pressure. In the twentieth century, they’d called the bomb a Daisy Cutter, since the detonation would cut every living thing down in the area, all the way down to the daisies. “I’ve had Gary make one or two of those.”
“I figured,” Mei responded. “Are you here alone?”
“I left them behind. I don’t need a bloody set of chaperones for a date with my girl,” McCarter answered.
Mei smiled. “You know that I have my own support crew around the place.”
“Especially the bartender,” McCarter noted. “Unless Taiwan took over the Russians’ telepathic research.”
Mei stuck out her tongue. It was meant to be a defiant gesture, but to David it was just unbearably cute. He leaned in and took a quick taste, lips crushed against hers. He didn’t want to break the kiss, but there was still business to attend to.
Mei cleared her throat. “The Dong-Feng can carry Multiple Individual Reentry Vehicles—I’m sure you remember MIRVs from the days when the USSR and dinosaurs roamed the Earth.”
McCarter gave her a poke in her stomach. “Was that an age joke?”
Mei chuckled. “Just making certain you’re paying attention and not undressing me with your eyes.”
