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“Remind me again why you?” Aaron Kurtzman asked from his wheelchair on the opposite side of the conference table. He was directly across from James, his intense gaze centered on the Phoenix Force warrior. “Why not any of the others?”
“One, I’m black and thus more likely to be accepted by the Muslim community. I also speak French. We know Kerim speaks the language, so we have something in common.” James paused. “And face it, brother, I’m the only one around this table who is really cool.”
McCarter raised his hands in surrender. “Well, that bloody does it for me. He’s cocky enough to pull this off.” The Brit leaned over and slapped James on the shoulder. “Be nice to the rest of us and maybe we’ll be around to cover your back.”
“No question there,” Brognola said. “You guys will be ready to jump in once Cal blows the time-out whistle.”
“You’ve got that,” Hawkins said.
“Aaron, can you push on with that character file for Cal? Give him a life so that if anyone does some electronic trawling he’ll exist,” McCarter said.
* * *
STONY MAN WANTED Shaia Kerim to believe he was safe, that his association with Hand of Allah was not known by anyone outside the group. The fact he was an active member had been carefully guarded, and he continued to operate under a false sense of security because the Stony Man team had decided to allow it to happen while they built their case, infiltrating Hand of Allah so they could take the group down. Stony Man accepted that simply removing Kerim would be a hollow victory. One man down would not destroy the entire cell. They needed a show of force that would remove Hand of Allah’s power base and neutralize its command structure. They needed information on other members of the organization and ultimately the reclusive figure who headed the group.
The identity of this shadowy figure was important. His whereabouts remained a secret even from active members of Hand of Allah. His exposure and removal from power would deal a devastating blow to the cell. Cutting off the head of the snake would hopefully destroy the body.
The members of Stony Man’s cyber team, under Aaron Kurtzman’s direction, were giving all their assistance to the combat teams. They were also working around the clock, using every skill they possessed and searching electronically for any clue, small as it might be, that could point them in the direction of the man overseeing Hand of Allah.
Kurtzman was fully aware of the importance of the operation. He always gave one hundred percent to any Stony Man search. Without any kind of overt command he made it clear to his team how he expected them to push even harder than usual. It was to Kurtzman’s credit that his people responded without exception, pushing themselves as hard as he did himself.
Stony Man had an unwritten declaration that came with the territory, and it was behind everything they did; for all of them it was to give everything they had to every assignment. Their missions were always on the edge, looking into the abyss. Failure would lead to deadly results. Their scope of operations was endless because the enemies they faced were legion. Stony Man undertook missions that were beyond the reach of regular security agencies due to rules of engagement, interagency overlaps and even information leaks.
Stony Man, through Phoenix Force, Able Team and even Mack Bolan, had no agency connections. The SOG was responsible, on a daily basis, to Hal Brognola. Above Brognola was the single figure of the SOG’s commander—the President of the United States. They deferred to him alone. In essence they were his last line of defense—his ultrasecret weapon—charged with stepping in when there was nowhere else for the Man to go.
Since its inception, Stony Man had been under the cloak of the presidency. With each new Commander in Chief, the baton had been passed along. Each new President had been told by his predecessor of the SOG’s existence, and the mantle of responsibility had been transferred. Given the state of the world, the existing threats and the possible future threats to the nation, each newcomer to the Oval Office had acknowledged the need for such a group. As each new President settled into his office and was updated by Brognola, it soon became clear to the man in charge that Stony Man was a vital weapon in America’s fight to survive. Although the President was at a distance from the Stony Man teams, he realized just how much they put into their missions, how many times they risked their lives and how many times they pulled the country back from the brink. All arguments aside, the President’s covert teams had a place in the ongoing struggle to maintain America’s security. And that struggle required, on occasion, that they fight down and dirty when the enemy dictated the terms of combat.
Aaron Kurtzman and his team were more than aware of the need to get down to ground level in order to assist the teams. Kurtzman would sanction anything to gain information. He had no qualms when it came to breaching other security agencies for intel. He understood the paranoia that gripped these agencies when they were in possession of data they claimed as their own, refusing to pass it along to sister agencies because it might weaken their own dominance. Interagency rivalry became paramount. Career building and personal grandstanding could withhold vital information, and the bickering that was tied to these matters often blocked progress.
Aaron Kurtzman used the cyber team’s combined skills to override these failings. His people were the best of the best. Unchallenged experts in the use of cyber tactics, they could, and would, bypass firewalls and encrypted systems to reach in and filter out data. Kurtzman and Akira Tokaido, the young systems wizard, devised and perfected the most intrusive programs in existence. They used them to worm their way through the most sophisticated computer shields to take what they needed, all without the knowledge of the breached systems.
Deeply immersed in the cyber universe, Kurtzman’s personnel increased their knowledge with every mission. Kurtzman understood the complexities of the electronic war he was fighting—and a war it was—and he devoted his waking hours to overcoming the challenges thrown Stony Man’s way. His cyber team’s reach extended across the globe, using any and all databases they breached. Electronic chatter filled cyberspace with a continuous flow. It never stopped. Day or night, filling the void with talk and information, the ceaseless river of human verbiage was there for the taking. It required specialized equipment and trained people to filter out the small snatches of useful information. Stony Man’s team were such people. In their hands such snippets of information could open up a channel that might provide the link they needed to bring them closer to a current enemy.
It was such dedication that enabled Kurtzman’s team to isolate a seemingly innocuous cell phone call and expand it into something useful.
Through the investigative skills of the cyber team, Shaia Kerim’s background biography had been established, giving the SOG a basis of fact. Kerim moved back and forth between Yemen and the States, his position in the Yemeni cultural administration allowing him access to museums and art galleries. His credentials were impressive. On the surface he was a moderate Muslim, his status as a mediator well-known. Now he had been identified as a Hand of Allah follower by Stony Man, his position had shifted. A probe into his past had uncovered his knowledge of the French language, attained during three years as a student in Paris. It also came out that he frequented a mosque in New York. The frequency of his visits gave Phoenix Force a way to allow James to make contact. It was a risk the warrior was willing to take.
Using his wide skills, Hunt Wethers worked on the bio information he had created for “Ibrahim Hammid,” aka Calvin James. Using his fertile imagination he came up with a plausible set of facts and figures, cleverly manipulated photo images and even background details on Hammid’s dead parents. The information was inserted into a number of databases to authenticate Hammid’s existence. With the same expertise, he built and inserted the details of Calvin James’s alter ego into the national criminal databases, knowing that Hand of Allah would check up on him if he made a worthwhile contact.
“We already have everything in motion,” Kurtzman said. “New identity. Family background. Paperwork. End of today we’ll have Cal vanish and Ibrahim Hammid will take his place.”
Price nodded. “Cover job and place to stay is already up and running. Background department has worked some heavy string-pulling to get this online. Cal, you’re only going to have a few days to get into character. Learn your back history so it’s word perfect and natural.” She peered along the table at James’s face. “That stubble and the longer hair is coming along fine. By the time you hit the streets you’ll look the part. We just need to outfit you in some hand-me-down clothes.”
“No problem,” James said. “David is going to lend me some of his.”
“And this is the bum who expects us to cover his arse out there,” McCarter said.
A crackle of laughter circled the table until Brognola held up his hand.
“Okay, let’s work on specifics. Able Team is all ready to work on the domestic scene. The information we were handed suggests Hand of Allah is negotiating the purchase of weapons to be brought into the country for use in this upcoming campaign. Intel we have points to the border country in the Southwest. Most likely coming up through Central America and into New Mexico. Our problem is the lack of real information. The who and where. The difficulty along that stretch of country is the groups already involved in trafficking drugs, people and guns.”
“Carl will sniff ’em out,” Hawkins said.
“I hope so,” Brognola said.
“David, if Calvin gets in with Hand of Allah and they move him to the training camp in Yemen, you guys will need to be on a following flight. I don’t want him out there on his own. The President has authorized a standby plane to take you across to Yemen so you can get yourselves embedded in Sana’a. The only solid piece of luck we have is that the Hand of Allah camp is believed to be around fifty miles across the border from Oman. That will give you somewhere to evacuate to if needed.”
“Aaron, give us what you have and we’ll move,” Carl Lyons said. “Anything. A name. Location. Something for us to work with.”
“We’ve been monitoring cell phone and email chatter. Using Echelon and the Zero station,” Kurtzman said. “Sifting through all that stuff is like looking for a particular grain of sand on a beach.”
Blancanales grinned. “Go ahead and tell us you found that grain.”
“What can I say? Carmen found something through the FBI network. Came up with two names. Carlos Gallegos. He’s a middleman who works both sides of the New Mexico border. He has past connections for the other guy Carmen came up with. Jack Regan.”
Every head around the table turned in Kurtzman’s direction.
Regan was a name known to them all. He had shown up in a number of previous Stony Man missions. The man was slippery, always managing to walk away even though deals he had been negotiating had been shut down. He would vanish but reappear somewhere else, and was known as a wily and persistent dealer in weapons.
“I wondered when that bugger was going to raise his head again,” McCarter said. “Been awhile since he showed up on the radar.”
“We did some deeper digging into his recent business dealings,” Kurtzman said. “He’s been busy wheeling and dealing. Latin America. Horn of Africa. Asia.”
“Busy lad,” McCarter said.
“And likely a wealthy one,” Brognola said. “Regan does nothing for chump change. Aaron uncovered some information that goes way back. Seems Regan has done deals with the CIA and even the Russians years ago. He’s nothing if not generous with his favors.”
“How do you figure he fits into this deal?” Lyons asked.
“We picked up on a cell phone call from Kerim to Gallegos.” Kurtzman shook his head. “These jokers will insist on calling each other thinking they’re safe using cells. The more technology improves, the more these idiots figure they can get in under the radar. Once we had Kerim’s cell ID it was simple enough to pull up his call list. Akira had his program run a breakdown on cell numbers. Gave us the ID of his contacts. Carlos Gallegos has been a busy boy. Last few weeks there have been at least a dozen conversations with Kerim. And Jack Regan’s name cropped up. Okay, the calls were nonspecific in content. But once you listen to them a few times, isolate key words, it’s plain they’ve been talking weapons purchase and delivery. There’s a deal in the pipeline and Regan is heading it up.”
“New Mexico and Carlos Gallegos,” Hermann “Gadgets” Schwarz said. “Sounds like a kick-off point.”
“Sounds like we need Grimaldi Air to fly us across to New Mexico,” Lyons said.
“You got it,” Price said. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
Lyons pushed to his feet. “Watch your backs, guys,” he said to Phoenix Force.
“And you, pal,” McCarter called as Able Team left the war room.
CHAPTER TWO
Jack Regan wore a creased white linen suit and a well-used white Panama hat. Those items were his trademark. He had been wearing a similar outfit the day he scored his first big deal and considered them his lucky dress. Over the years he had replaced the outfits as each one wore out, but always favored the same style and color.
Jack Regan dealt in weaponry of all kinds. Whatever the client wanted, Regan could usually supply it. He had clients and contacts across the globe, and in his circle he was considered one of the best. Regan had the knack of walking away if a deal went sour, and some had. It was part of the business. At the first sign of trouble he would turn around and leave. He hated to lose on a deal because Regan did not like losing money. But when push came to shove he valued his skin, and there were always other clients and other deals.
Right now he was negotiating with Shaia Kerim’s point man for the deal. Jamal Ryad was a shrewd, cold-eyed individual Regan would not have entertained for a split second if he hadn’t worked for Kerim.
Jamal Ryad glanced across the table, toying with the spoon in his cup of lemon tea. He caught Regan’s eye. “So it is possible?” he asked.
“To supply this ordnance? Deliver it to the locations?” Regan smiled as if he’d been asked to take on a simple task. “I just wish all my contracts were this simple, bubba.”
“Perhaps I am offering too much money, then,” Ryad said. “If the work is so without risk maybe we should renegotiate the payment.”
Regan didn’t flinch. “I didn’t say it would be without risk, Jamal. It’s just that I have a damn good crew and the organization to back it.”
“And moving these weapons within the U.S.A. will not be difficult?”
“Not for me, bubba. Not for Jack Regan.”
“I have to ask how soon you can have the consignments in place.”
“Few more days.”
Ryad showed surprise. “That quickly?”
“Hell, I thought you were about to go off on one for a minute.”
“No. I am impressed.”
“When you come to the best, bubba, you get the best.”
“And the word I have on you, Mr. Regan, is you are considered one of the best. My brother Kerim speaks highly of you. He still remembers the handling of the sale of the helicopter you acquired for him. An extremely satisfactory arrangement.”
“Hell, not one of the best. The best. And I’m not being a smart-ass here. My reputation speaks for itself. I make a deal, I deliver. Look, Jamal, I built my business over a long time. I don’t like disappointing my customers.”
“But you have had your failures, Mr. Regan. Yes?”
Regan threw up his hands. “First to admit it. Few of my deals have fallen through. I won’t deny it. But my successes outreach them by a golden mile. You have to realize this is a high-risk business. Things can go south. But what business is totally risk free?”
Ryad sipped at his tea. He watched Regan for a moment before asking, “It does not concern you where the weapons are used?”
Regan grinned. “I was wondering when you were going to get around to that. Look, like I told your boss man, Kerim, I buy and sell a commodity. I don’t care what the end user does with them. Hell, I’m no different to other sellers in the business. Goes against my religion to pick and choose where my ordnance ends up. Governments do it all the time. It’s big, big business, so why shouldn’t Jack Regan get his cut?”
“But America?”
“I ain’t lived on home soil for longer than I can remember. I move around. Go where my business takes me. Today I’m operating on home ground. Shit, Jamal, America has more guns floating around than even I could supply. People are blowing themselves away all the time. Don’t shoot me all that patriotic bullshit. Only thing I ever had in common with the U.S.A. was the race for the almighty dollar. It’s a dog-eat-dog world, and I do not aim to go hungry.”
Ryad smiled. “You make it almost sound romantic, Mr. Regan.”
“Hey, cut the mister crap. The name’s Jack.” Regan placed both hands flat on the table. “Okay, let’s talk numbers. We get this all worked out I can start filling your order and getting my people set up.”
* * *
LATER, AFTER RYAD had left, Regan switched on his sat phone and punched in a number. He waited until his call was picked up.
“Carlos, hola, mi amigo.”
“You sound in a good mood,” Carlos Gallegos said.
“Why not, bubba? A man is allowed to be cheerful when he’s just negotiated a nice fat contract.”
“The Muslim guy?”
“Yes. So we can start to pull things together. You know what to do?”
“Of course,” Regan’s liaison for the deal said. “We working to a deadline here?”
“I told him around a few more days.”
“We don’t even need that long,” Gallegos said.
“You and me, bubba, we know that. But he doesn’t, so we can cruise this deal without raising a sweat. You get moving and keep in touch. I don’t want any fuckups on this, Carlos.”
“No problems. Where will you be?”
“I have to tie up a distribution deal so I’ll be busy a couple days.”
“You using Sebastian for this Arab deal?”
“Always done right by me before,” Regan said. “He’s in the right area and he has secure storage. I’ll head along to see him when the delivery is due. We can easily work out the schedule.”
“I’ll get things rolling this end. Talk to you, Jack.”
Regan cut the connection, then immediately made a second call.
“Jason? It’s Jack. The deal is on. Terms as we agreed. Merchandise is being organized as we speak. I’ll make contact once Carlos gives me the okay. You all set at your end?”
“I’m always ready, Jack,” Jason Sebastian said. “Crew and vehicles ready to roll.”
“Okay, I’ll be at your place in a couple of days.”
“You sure you need to make the trip?”
“No way I’m letting this deal out of my hands. Has to be a man-to-man handover. Too much riding on it to risk any other way.”
“No sweat, Jack. I’ll see you soon.”
“That you will, bubba. That you will.”
CHAPTER THREE
New York
Calvin James had waited, watching the coming and going of the worshipers. This was his fifth day lingering near the entrance to the mosque. He was expecting Shaia Kerim. After scoping out the mosque for the past few days, Calvin had the man’s habits logged in his mind. Kerim visited the mosque at the same time every day. James saw no reason why he shouldn’t do the same today. It was time to make a connection. Time to see if his new identity would get him recognized as a believer, and a possible recruit for Hand of Allah.
The Stony Man warrior had allowed his hair to grow out. He hadn’t shaved for a few days. He wore washed-out chinos and a long cotton tunic under a faded, much abused jacket. His pockets held a few crumpled bills and some change. He had no cell phone or wallet. The only other item he carried was a well-thumbed copy of the Koran.
