Читать книгу China Crisis - Don Pendleton - Страница 5

CIA Field Surveillance Unit

Agent Arnie Trickett was starting to get nervous. It showed in the way he was pacing back and forth in the surveillance truck, constantly peering at the monitors. He was downing paper cups of black coffee as if the stuff was going to go on ration.

“Arnie, sit before you wear a hole through the bottom of the truck,” his partner Jack Schofield said. “It’s going to go down.”

“Yeah? Well we’re going to look like a pair of prize dicks if it doesn’t. We only got the go-ahead because of our input. All the intelligence is ours.”

“And it’s sound.” Schofield swung his seat around. “Arnie, what’s wrong? Why the jitters?”

“This isn’t the first time we’ve tried to catch that bastard Townsend with the goods. Every time he’s slipped through the nets free and clear. We can’t touch the guy without evidence that’s one-hundred-and-one-percent solid. I don’t see that happening. The guy is laughing all the way to the bank, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Patience, my boy, patience. We’ll catch him. Even Townsend has to slip up sooner or later. When he does, it’s payday.”

The third member of the observation team snapped his fingers.

“We got contact,” he said. His name was Zach Jordan. He was younger than both Trickett and Schofield, with only a few years’ field experience. “Looks like Riotta. Yes. Confirmed. Joseph Riotta.”

Trickett leaned over to scan the monitor.

He saw that a dark sedan had parked outside the deserted warehouse where the exchange had been arranged. A man was already out of the vehicle, standing beside the front passenger door, gazing around the abandoned industrial site. Jordan zoomed in with the camera and brought the man’s face into full view. Even in the gloom Trickett was able to recognize Joseph Riotta. He had looked at dozens of images of the man over the past few weeks, along with other members of the group Riotta was in with.

“What’d I tell you,” Schofield said. He leaned forward to open a switch and spoke into his headset mike. “First contact made. Stay alert, people. We should be getting more visitors anytime now. Will advise. Nobody moves until I give the word. Let’s get these people in one spot before we net them.”

There was more to it than that. Getting Townsend’s people and the sellers in one place was nothing on its own. They needed an actual exchange to take place, with goods and money in evidence before a conviction could be guaranteed. Schofield’s years with the Agency had taught him one thing: total, unbreakable evidence was required before any case could progress. They needed more than simple knowledge of a crime. They had to have the whole package, which was why he understood Trickett’s nerves were strung so tight. His partner was a born worrier. He liked every detail nailed down before he could relax. That wasn’t a bad thing in their line of work. It was only that it made life difficult for anyone working with him. Trickett’s insistence on overplanning sometimes bordered on the irritating.

“Hey, this looks like what we’ve been waiting for,” Trickett said, pointing at one of the monitors. It showed a dark-colored SUV cruising along the service road that would bring it to the warehouse where Riotta had parked.

“Be advised,” Schofield said. “Second party has shown up. Be ready.”

He left his mike open to avoid any delay when he gave the order to move in. Now he turned his attention back to the monitors, studying the people under the eye of the CIA cameras.

“They going ahead?” he asked.

Jordan shook his head. “All they seem to be doing is standing around talking.”

Something stirred the back of Schofield’s mind. Both parties were present. There was no logical reason why they should stand around passing the time of day. Unless they were waiting for something else to happen.

But what?

The faint stirring took on an uneasy edge as Schofield allowed his mind to permutate the options, and even as he did, a disturbing thought entered his consciousness.

In was then that he heard the door to the surveillance truck click as the handle was turned. He felt a rush of chill air and he turned to look over his shoulder…. T HE PEOPLE LISTENING to the tape later heard Schofield say, “What are you doing here? I didn’t see your name on the roster for—”

There was a subdued cough of sound, easily identified as the chug of 9 mm bullets exiting the muzzle of a sound suppressor. It was stated in the written report that the weapon had most probably been a 9 mm Uzi on full-auto, expending its entire magazine in seconds. The end result was inevitable. Arnie Trickett, Jack Schofield and Zach Jordan were all killed in those fleeting moments. They weren’t given a chance to draw their own weapons, and from the way Schofield had greeted the assassin, it was obvious he knew and recognized the individual.

What the killer hadn’t realized was that Schofield had left his com line open and everything said in those final moments was relayed back to the field office and caught by the tape machine monitoring the entire operation.

By the time the office contacted the tactical team waiting for Schofield’s go and ordered them to check out the truck, the killer had left the scene, the buyer-seller had been alerted and fled. Nothing was found at the rendezvous point, but at the surveillance truck the tactical team found bloody slaughter.

White House—three days later

“I’ M REACHING THE POINT when I don’t trust my own shadows,” the President said. “Trust. Hal, that word is becoming a joke around here. I get a new version of events depending on who I talk to. The CIA excludes the FBI. The NSA has the lead when it comes to paranoia. None of them wants to cooperate with the others, and they only give me versions they believe I can handle.”

Brognola waited in strained silence. He knew what the President’s final request would be. He wouldn’t have been summoned to the White House if it didn’t need the attention of the Sensitive Operations Group.

The Man sat heavily, the weight of his burden showing for a moment on his face. Then he gathered himself and directed his gaze at the man seated across the desk from him.

“I truly believe you’re the only man in the damn country who wouldn’t betray me,” the President said, studying the big Fed closely. “Tell me I’m right, Hal.”

“No problem, Mr. President. You know how I feel about this office and you especially. I work for you. No one else. The SOG is your security arm. We don’t compromise on our mandate and that goes down the line.”

The President relaxed a little. He reached out and placed a hand on a file.

“Are you up to date on this?”

“I read your memo.”

This time the Man managed a laugh.

“Memo. Well, that cuts it down to size. Then you’ll know the defense community has been losing top-secret electronic hardware. Computer software has gone, too, specifically items developed for current and developing missile applications. Guidance and stabilizing systems. Inflight circuitry boards. God knows what else. From what I’ve been able to gather, the suspicion is the stuff has been stolen to order and sold to the end user—namely the Chinese.

“I have been reliably informed that the Chinese are currently engaged in an all-out program being developed so their military can keep pace with the latest in missile capacity.”

“China? Our emerging Asian trading buddies?” Brognola asked.

“Exactly. Don’t let all that twenty-first-century business expansion fool you, Hal. The Chinese will play the market for what it’s worth. They’ll build our TV sets, washing machines and DVD recorders. Automobiles, too, if we let them. And they’ll undercut prices, sell by the shipload and collect their pay in dollars. Then they will use those dollars to buy military know how by the back door.”

“What’s behind all this?” the big Fed queried.

“Survival. Our defense program has always been ahead of theirs, because we put in the money and the time. No one has the capacity to match the Slingshot satellite system, and once we get the Zero platform fully operational, that will put us even further ahead. The Russians only pushed the knife in deeper when they announced they were going to update their own ballistic missile arsenal again. For home defense, they quoted,” the President stated.

“And there’s no way the Chinese are going to stand by and let that happen.”

“Precisely. China sees itself as number one in their neck of the woods and a major player on the world stage. They aren’t going to lose face and end up the poor kid on the block behind the U.S. and Russia.”

“Full circle,” Brognola said. “Back where we started.”

“If we allow it to happen. The Chinese are aware that starting from scratch means years of development and testing. Buying in technology, to be copied and reproduced, will give their armament community one hell of an advantage. They let us do all the research and development, spend the billions, then buy the goods from their U.S. supplier. All they need then is to analyze the components and start to build their own.”

“Suspicions?” Brognola probed.

“Nothing we can move on officially. It’s believed an organization called Shadow run by a man named Oliver Townsend may be the culprit. The CIA got close to a deal being brokered but the whole thing went to the wall at the eleventh hour, so we’re no closer to the truth at this time,” the President told him.

“We heard through the grapevine about some CIA people getting killed. This the same incident?”

The President nodded. “Three. Shot down in cold blood during surveillance on the deal I mentioned. Early indications suggest it might have been one of their own who pulled the trigger. There’s a transcript of the tape that recorded the last words of one of the agents.”

“Anything on the shooter?”

“No admission yet. Personally I don’t believe they know. But the CIA is embarrassed that the killing may have been by one of their own. They were caught off guard. The Agency has closed ranks. There’s an internal investigation being carried out, but every time I ask questions I don’t get much. I have the feeling the CIA is confused by what happened and they don’t know themselves who to trust. I’m the President, Hal. I should be able to get to the truth.”

“You want Stony Man to take this on for you?”

“Damn right I do. No stonewalling, Hal. I want this handled. Top to bottom. I want this mess cleaned up. From the CIA mole, through to the people handling these deals and the Chinese. If Beijing is sanctioning the purchase of U.S. technology, I want it stopped. What’s the point of us developing superior firepower if it’s being taken from under our noses and sold down the road to use against us? This is a direct threat to U.S. security. Put an end to it. We’re being taken for a ride here, Hal, and I won’t let it go on. If the Chinese want down and dirty, they can have a taste themselves. Do we understand each other?”

“No restraints, Mr. President?”

“When was the last time that worried you, Hal?”

“Just like hearing you say it, sir.”

“No restraints, Hal. Get our hardware back, or destroy it so the Chinese can’t use it. Go the whole damn mile and however farther you have to go. If the Chinese are running this deal, give them a bloody nose and shut the operation down.”

“Repercussions?”

“I’m sure there will be, but we’ll field them if and when. Be interesting to hear the mitigating circumstances from Beijing.” The President slid a file across the desk. “Main points. All the detail I’ve been able to collect. I’m sure your Mr. Kurtzman’s cyberteam will find out more.”

“They like a challenge, sir.”

“Usual terms, Hal. If want anything, just pick up the phone and ask me.”

Stony Man Farm, Virginia

T HE ACTION TEAMS and support staff sat at the War Room conference table.

The meeting was headed by Hal Brognola, with Barbara Price, mission controller, at his side. Aaron “The Bear” Kurtzman was checking out the monitor setup, ready to reveal his findings.

The members of Phoenix Force and Able Team were spaced around the table, all of them eager to get the proceedings under way.

“Let’s have the light show,” Brognola said to Kurtzman.

Kurtzman tapped in a command and the large wall monitor displayed a series of photographic images, the first one showing Oliver Townsend. The other shots were of people known to be associated with him and working out of the ranch he operated in South Texas, close to the border with Mexico. The sequence was short. No one recognized any of them, until T. J. Hawkins asked if Kurtzman could backtrack.

“That one,” he said.

The image was held. Hawkins leaned forward to make certain he had been correct, then nodded.

“That’s him. Vic Lerner.”

“He’s right,” Kurtzman said, checking his list.

He brought up Lerner’s detail.

“Where do you know him from, T.J.?” Gary Manning asked.

“We served together. He was with me in Somalia. I lost track of him after that.”

“Records show he left the military about a year ago. Seemed to drop out of sight, then he was seen with a couple of people tied in with Townsend.” Brognola glanced at Hawkins. “Impressions?”

“Nice enough guy face-to-face but I always had the feeling there was something going on under the surface. Vic always had his eye out for the main chance. Did a little dealing in ‘lost’ equipment if I remember. He could always get his hands on whatever you wanted. That kind of guy.”

“He’d be up for this kind of deal?” Brognola asked.

“Vic? If it paid cash money, he’d trade his sister’s puppy dog.”

“High-tech hardware is a lot more expensive than a dog,” Manning said.

“And stuff like that doesn’t just casually fall into someone’s hands,” Calvin James pointed out. “I mean, these boards aren’t lying around like crackers spilled from a box.” He stared around the table. “Well, are they?”

“Let’s hope not,” Brognola said. “That means the gear is being systematically stolen by an organized group. It looks like we’ve hit on something deep and dirty here. From the information we’ve already got, the Chinese have started in on their missile regeneration big-time. Interagency data points to a concentrated program.”

“So why now?” Rosario Blancanales asked.

“This didn’t happen overnight,” Brognola said. “The Chinese have been feeling out in the cold for a few years now. Kind of like the poor relation peering in through the window at all the goodies on show. And they see the neighbors being invited in and not them.”

“Sounds like paranoia to me,” Carl Lyons said.

“The Chinese are into saving face,” Brognola said. “No chance are they going to let other nations stand tall and leave them in the shadows. Remember last year when the Russians announced they were going to beef up their own missile program? It was soon after that the Chinese stepped on the gas and started to improve their own missile program.”

“Are we into ‘if you have a big stick, I’m getting me a bigger one’ territory here?” David McCarter asked.

“That’s a simplistic way of putting it,” Brognola said, “but it pretty well sums up the problem.”

“See, simple is best,” the Briton offered.

“And you’re the expert when it comes to simple,” Manning agreed.

McCarter leaned forward, wagging a finger at the big Canadian.

“And also the boss, chum.”

“China isn’t going to let itself be pushed into the background,” Brognola agreed, choosing to ignore the banter. “They have to been seen as the strongest force in Asia and being able to dictate terms if the need arises. This Russian desire to be able to rattle the saber again isn’t going to go down well in Beijing. So it’s in China’s interest to become a major player. They want parity with all the other big powers.”

“Back to the old cold-war syndrome,” Price said. “Full circle.”

“Not exactly,” Brognola said. “The President has green-lighted this as priority. Bad enough China up-ping its weapons capability, but it’s like being given the finger when they start using our technology to let them jump-start and draw level.”

“Government loses technology, we’re handed the baton and told to get it back?” Carl Lyons said.

“That’s what we can’t allow to happen.” Brognola turned his attention to Hawkins. “T.J., hear me out on this.”

McCarter caught the inflection in the big Fed’s voice and was way ahead of Brognola. “I smell an undercover job coming up, young Hawkins.”

Hawkins glanced at the Briton, a slight frown on his face.

“You’ve got history with this Vic Lerner,” Brognola said. “If you can make contact, maybe it could give us a way into Townsend’s organization.”

“I guess so.”

“No pressure, T.J.”

“Don’t you believe it,” McCarter stated. “Turn him down and he’ll cut your credit-card rating and stop your subscription to the Buffy fan club. By the way, you still got that life-size cardboard cutout?”

Price barely concealed her snort of laughter. She raised a hand to her mouth as she feigned a sudden cough.

Brognola allowed a wisp of a smile to touch his lips before he moved on.

“Able Team will shadow you on this. Find anything we can pin on him, and they’ll move on Townsend.”

“Get me into his computer system,” Kurtzman said, “and we can dig out all his dirty secrets.”

“Tell me how and I’ll do it.”

“I love enthusiasm.” Kurtzman grinned.

Hawkins drummed his fingers on the table. “Sure. Let’s see what we can work out. I need some kind of hook to get me involved with Lerner.”

“You are in the hands of the masters of guile and deceit,” Blancanales said.

Price extracted a file from the stack in front of her.

“Phoenix, you handle China,” she said, and handed the file to McCarter. “That’s your mission brief, guys. Everything you need to know. We want our technology returned or at least destroyed so it’s useless to any potential hostiles. You can bring yourselves up to speed while you’re on your way to Andrews. There’s a C-17 transport waiting to take you to Bagram airbase. Jack’s already on board with Dragon Slayer. He’ll make the insertion into China. The flight will give you the chance to update with Mei Anna. An incident has occurred directly tied in to this whole affair.”

“Whoa,” McCarter said. “Mei Anna? How did she get caught up in this?”

“David, she’s been back with her group for the past few weeks.”

“Didn’t she tell you?” Lyons asked.

“Lover’s tiff maybe,” Blancanales suggested innocently.

McCarter’s dark scowl indicated he wasn’t seeing the humor.

“You forgot where I’ve been the past few weeks? A little busy.”

“The important thing is, David, that Anna has background that bears directly on your upcoming mission. We flew her in from Hong Kong so she could join up with you and go into Xinjiang with you. Read the file and you’ll see why,” Price said. “Hey, I’m sure she would have let you know, but it might have been difficult getting a message to you at the time.”

McCarter slumped back in his seat. “I suppose so.”

“Part of Anna’s Pro-Democracy group has been monitoring the facility the Chinese set up some time ago,” Price said, quickly moving on. “Aaron?”

Kurtzman keyed up a series of images, showing the facility. It was set in rough terrain, with low mountains far to the north. The shots were mostly taken via long-range lens.

“The place is called Guang Lor,” Kurtzman offered. He brought up a map. “Northwest China, province of Xinjiang. It’s close to the border with Afghanistan. Well isolated, away from any populated areas so Beijing can keep it under wraps as much as possible. Intel says this is where they’re developing their new generation of long-and short-range ballistic missiles. There’s a small settlement grown up in the vicinity for workers at the facility.”

“Anna’s Pro-Democracy group has been working the area and picking up what they can,” Price went on. “They have to be careful because the area is pretty well controlled by the Chinese. Current intel says the missile testing has been increased lately. The group has a man inside the facility now, and he’s been feeding them what he can. Pretty thin, but at least it indicates just what the Chinese are up to.”

“Take a look at this,” Kurtzman’s said. “The Pro-Democracy group took these shots a couple of weeks back in Hong Kong.”

He brought up a series of shots that showed a group of men talking together.

“This was shot in Hong Kong. The Chinese is Sammo Chen Low. No surprise that he comes from the facility at Guang Lor. He’s a negotiator and a financial specialist. The Caucasian here is Joseph Riotta, and CIA intel has him linked to Townsend’s Shadow organization. Same with this guy. Ralph Chomski. Ex-Air Force. I managed to filch that information from military data banks. Make of it what you will, folks.”

McCarter leaned forward and poked a finger at the image of another man in the group, sitting a little back, but listening intently to what was being discussed.

“Well, well,” the Briton muttered. “Our old chum from Santa Lorca. Jack bloody Regan.”

James studied the face of the man in the crumpled suit and old Panama hat.

“You are not wrong, bubba,” he said, using the man’s favorite expression.

“Still in the business,” McCarter said. “Regan has good contacts for moving ordnance. Looks like he sub-contracted to Shadow.”

“That going to be a problem for T.J.?” Brognola asked.

“No. He never met Regan on that mission. T.J. was backup on a warehouse roof. They never even saw each other.”

They spent a few more minutes tossing facts back and forth until one of the phones rang. Price picked it up and took the message.

“Phoenix, your ride is ready to take you to Andrews.”

McCarter stuck the file under his arm and stood, the rest of his team following suit.

“We’re gone,” the Briton said. “Hey, hotshots, you look after my mate. He’s a pain in the arse, but he’s my pain. We’d like him back in good working order.”

Lyons nodded. “He’ll be fine. You know our rep.”

“That’s what worries me,” McCarter said, grinning.

“Take care, guys,” Price said.

“Easier said than done,” Manning replied.

“You sure you old boys can manage without me?” Hawkins asked.

“You really sure you want an answer to that?” James asked, a wide grin on his face.