Close Quarters
“Definitely not,” McCarter said. “And definitely not any sort of luxury afforded most Peace Corps volunteers. A lot of them travel with only the most basic necessities because they want to fit in with the natives, as it were.”
“So what are we looking at?” Hawkins asked.
“Well, I’m not expert but I’d say it’s some sort of homing device,” Manning said.
“Pretty odd thing for a bunch of Peace Corps volunteers to have,” James replied.
“There’s no identifying marks on its exterior, but I’m betting if we take it back to HQ for a closer inspection Russell can probably determine exactly what it is,” McCarter observed.
“And likely even who made it,” Manning said.
“Well, it’s not exactly the X-marks-the-spot you were looking for, boss, but it’s a start.”
“Indeed it is, chum,” David McCarter replied.
* * *
“WELL, IT LOOKS LIKE you were right on the money, pal,” Brad Russell told Manning. “It’s definitely a homing beacon.”
Phoenix Force had returned with the device and after a couple of tense hours, Russell and Encizo had managed to get enough of their communications system up that the NSA expert could then turn his attention to their prize. Russell made short work of it, figuring out how to disassemble the device and determining its purpose in no time flat. Whatever else Russell might have been, Price had pegged him well when she’d told McCarter that he was an electronics genius to rival some of the best in the business.
“A homing beacon inside a Peace Corps camp,” James said. “Doesn’t make any sense.”
They had Aaron Kurtzman on speakerphone and it was he who replied, “It does if you consider this in light of what we learned from Christopher Harland.”
“Meaning?” Hawkins said.
“Meaning that they didn’t stumble onto those Peace Corps blokes by accident,” McCarter replied. He scratched at the stubble already forming on his chin. “They had this whole thing planned out. They stalked them and they planned their attack.”
“And they also managed to get someone to plant that beacon inside the camp,” Russell said.
“But who?” James inquired.
“One of the locals. Had to be,” Encizo declared.
“What makes you think so?” Manning said.
“There’s little doubt in my mind now they have folks on the inside working for them. I think they have a lot of natives on the payroll, in fact.”
“Paraguayan citizens helping Hezbollah terrorists?” Russell asked in disbelief. “But why?”
“Maybe the money’s good,” Hawkins said.
“That’s one possibility,” Encizo said. “But the more likely scenario is that they’ve agreed to leave the locals alone. The economy here isn’t exactly stable and since the fact one of this country’s strongest revenue streams comes from farming, it’s not impossible that the Hezbollah might be offering security in exchange for people to look the other way.”
“I don’t know,” McCarter said. “That sounds a bit far-fetched, mate.”
“Not really if you consider the possibility,” Encizo said. “How else can you explain their ability to get this beacon inside the camp without being seen? Hezbollah terrorists couldn’t just waltz in and out unobserved, but local natives were around them constantly. That’s the people they were serving, remember? And let’s consider that the attack on this Peace Corps contingent was obviously part of a larger plan. The terrorists didn’t have to reveal themselves but they chose to risk doing so. Doesn’t that make you stop and ask yourselves why? It sure does me.”
“That’s a good point,” Hawkins said.
“I have to admit that he may be on to something,” Manning agreed.
“Ditto,” James said.
With all of the opinions voiced, McCarter had to consider that majority opinion had merit; it was possible Encizo had just cracked the mystery wide open. “Okay, so let’s just say we’re right and they have the locals helping them. How does exposing their operation help them? I mean, I don’t know about the rest of you but I don’t see how revealing the secret training operation in the middle of bloody South America helps the Hezbollah. Or the people training them, for that matter.”
“What if it’s a diversion?” Russell offered.
“Okay,” Kurtzman interjected via speakerphone, “but a diversion from what?”
“Well, didn’t you say that they found a homing beacon on Harland that had advanced electronics?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Kurtzman replied.
“And now we find this homing beacon—it also has advanced electronics. From what I’ve seen so far, I’d say much of the guts were manufactured in Europe somewhere.”
Kurtzman said in a faraway tone, “If I’m correct in my recollection, Gadgets said the same thing.”
“Gadgets?”
“Don’t ask,” Manning told Russell with a smile.
“So let’s look at what we have,” McCarter said. “Hezbollah terrorists being trained by members of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, and using highly advanced technology to spin whatever plans they have. They’ve also committed several coordinated strikes, and now we suddenly have Ironman and friends headed into the heart of Tehran to assist some no-name CIA informant who claims all of this part of a plan by a mysterious group high up in Ahmadinejad’s political ranks to overthrow the Iranian government.”
“Well, I don’t know what the hell all of that means, exactly,” Russell said, “but it doesn’t sound good.”
“It sounds like terrorists on the verge of implementing a high-tech threat against Americans is what it sounds like,” Manning said.
“Great!” Hawkins said. When they all looked at him in surprise he added sheepishly, “I just mean…it’ll be business as usual.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Stony Man Farm, Virginia
Harold Brognola and Barbara Price sat in the Operations Center of the Annex.
They’d been reviewing the intelligence provided by Stony Man repeatedly for the past twelve hours without a break. Word had just come in from Lyons that Able Team had left and would reach Iraq within the next sixteen hours. There hadn’t been any word from Phoenix Force but Kurtzman had been working with Russell without ceasing, and he’d promised to have something very soon.
“It feels like we’re being played, Hal,” Price finally said. “Almost as if someone knows our every move.”
“I’ll admit that this has me stumped, as well,” Brognola replied. “I’m also very troubled by what Phoenix Force found in South America. That’s the second piece of high-tech equipment being used by the IRGC we’ve stumbled on in the past twenty-four hours.”
“Don’t you get the feeling that perhaps we’ve been duped, that the IRGC knew how we would respond?”
Brognola scratched at the two-day growth on his chin. “I don’t know that I buy they knew exactly what we’d do in a situation like this, although I’ll agree they seem to have predicted our response pretty well thus far. No, there’s something more sinister at the heart of this thing. I just can’t put my finger on it.”
Price managed a smile. “Don’t beat yourself up, Hal. We’re all tired. We’ve been working around the clock. How about some coffee?”
“No way,” Brognola said, raising a hand. “I don’t think I can take another cup of that battery acid that Bear slurps all day.”
“And here I thought you enjoyed my coffee,” said Kurtzman, wheeling into the room. He headed directly to the central access terminal recessed in the table. An LCD monitor rose with the push of a button from out of the tabletop and exposed a keyboard beneath it.
“I completed my analysis of the device that Phoenix found,” Kurtzman said as he pecked furiously at the keys. A moment later the massive HD screen at the end of the conference room flickered to life and a picture of the device appeared. “This is the closest approximation Akira could come up with based on my secondhand descriptions and the digital photos of what was left that he sent to us.”
Akira Tokaido was a member of the Stony Man cyberteam led by Kurtzman. His exploits in the world of software engineering and programming were legendary. He specialized in programs designed to run on sensitive electronic devices, programs that handled everything from flashing EPROM to enabling secure and encrypted traffic on communications equipment. In recent years, he’d become significantly advanced with data-based graphics and 3D rendering engines. It was one of his programs that had obviously reconstructed the device displayed in front of them now.
“Looks like a coffee urn,” Brognola remarked.
“That’s exactly what our boys thought until they took a closer look,” Kurtzman said. “In fact, though, this thing is a highly advanced homing beacon. Certainly nothing you’d find as standard equipment in Tehran, even among their intelligence people. No…this thing is very high-tech.”
“Source of origin?” Price asked.
“We ran it through every recognition program we could think of, but no hits. I walked Brad Russell through disassembling the thing one piece at a time over our high-res video feed. Most of the guts were still intact—it had obviously been built to withstand heat.”
“Sounds like maybe whoever planted it didn’t know that,” Brognola said.
Kurtzman nodded. “Exactly. Otherwise they wouldn’t
have left it to be found.”
“Unless they wanted us to find it,” Price said.
“You’re sounding a little paranoid, Barb, if you’ll forgive me saying so.”
“Um, Bear…probably should leave that where it’s at right now,” Brognola said helpfully.
Kurtzman looked at Price, who didn’t meet his glance, shrugged it off and continued. “So since none of the internal parts had identifying marks, I finally decided to take my best guess. There’s little doubt this thing came out of China.”
“What makes you think so?” Price asked.
“We had Russell overnight a package with two of the chip boards inside,” Kurtzman said. “Based on a materials analysis, quantitative architecture of the electronics and a few other telltale signs, we have a strong enough amount of evidence to draw a conclusion it originated in China—at least the parts we examined.”
“That’s interesting,” Brognola said. “After careful analysis in Florida, Gadgets swore up and down that the watch found on Harland’s person was indisputably made in Switzerland.”
“So the IRGC is obtaining high-tech equipment from all over Europe and Asia?” Kurtzman said.
“It would appear that way,” Price replied. “And I think I just may have a theory as to what’s going on.”
“I’d be happy to entertain any notions at this point, Barb,” Brognola said. “Go on.”
“What’s the most important resource for any terrorist organization?”
Kurtzman clapped his hands together. “Even I know that. Money!”
Price smiled. “Exactly. Without ready cash, terrorists have a very difficult time getting cooperation. They need it for weapons, equipment, clothing and training. They can’t use credit cards, obviously, so they need currency and they need large quantities.”
“Okay,” Brognola interjected. “I still don’t see what you’re getting at.”
“Well, we’re pretty certain they don’t know much about the equipment they’re using,” Price said. “That kind of unfamiliarity makes me think their decisions to use it were improvised.”
“So…you don’t think they intended to use it but in a pinch they would?”
“Right.” Price snapped her fingers. “Just like that, they have this equipment but they use it in unnatural ways. My guess is that they’re actually stockpiling high-tech equipment to sell on the black market.”
“Terrorists smuggling high-tech equipment into foreign countries for cash,” Kurtzman said. “I can see that.”
“Me, too,” Brognola said. “Very lucrative and carries a low risk, since it’s obviously been rendered untraceable except by the most advanced methods of analysis.”
“It also provides them with a source of local cash wherever they are,” Price added. “Consider this for a moment. The IRGC sends a group of their elite members into the heart of an impoverished nation. They need cash to train a terrorist group, whether it’s Hezbollah or not, and that means they need money. Money for weapons or smuggling operations or whatever.
“Now suppose that things start to heat up, so they need to put the focus on something else to prevent their smuggling operations from being exposed. So they nab a group of American Peace Corps volunteers, rig up some cockamamie story that they pass along through U.S. political channels and then disappear into thin air while we scramble around the world chasing phantoms.”
“Okay, but what about Farzad Hemmati and his story?” Brognola asked.
“I think Hemmati’s legit,” Price said. “But I also happen to think that he’s as intent on keeping the eyes off their smuggling operations as the IRGC contingent in South America.”
“So if these two things are still related and this is all about high-tech smuggling,” Kurtzman said, “how do you expect to stop them?”
“I’m glad you asked, my friend,” Price said. “In a country like Paraguay, there aren’t many who could afford this type of equipment. You need to go right to the source of the cash, and that source can usually be found with conglomerate corporations that are in the high-tech business. Most of those are technical futures traders and finance corporations willing to bankroll such goods and not ask too many questions.”
“It’s a heck of a good place to start,” Brognola agreed. “Nice thinking, Barb!”
“I can start digging into those right away,” Kurtzman said.
“I’ll work with you to get a profile,” Price said. “Even among the majority of the lot, I think we’ll only find a likely few.”
“What about the volunteers, though?” Brognola said. “If there’s any chance they’re still alive, the President is going to ask us to do everything we can to save them.”
“I couldn’t agree more. And I fully intend to make sure that we do everything to meet those ends,” Price said. “Although we have nowhere for Phoenix Force to start looking, so this is the next best thing. I’m hoping maybe we can get Encizo to work the angles posing as an inside trader, perhaps even a local confidence guy.”
“Good idea,” Brognola said. “He’s the right physical profile for the area and he’s also on light duty. I’m sure he’ll be keen to the idea.”
“Agreed,” Price said. “Rafe’s never been one for sitting idle long.”
“As soon as you have the information together on your most probable leads, make contact with them,” Brognola said as he rose. “I need to shave and get ready to leave. I have a meeting with the President in less than two hours.”
“He’s called a meeting?”
Brognola nodded. “Ever since the information got leaked to the press, he’s been on pins and needles. This is an election year.”
“Ah, politics,” Kurtzman said wistfully. “There’s always an election to think of.”
“Tell me about it,” Hal Brognola replied.
Asunción, Paraguay
“SOLO MISSION?” RAFAEL Encizo sat back, folded his arms and stared at the screen.
Price smiled. “We figured this might interest you, give you a chance to get out and stretch your legs instead of being cooped up.”
“How best to say hell yeah,” he replied.
Encizo turned to glance at McCarter, who nodded his approval. “It sounds perfect for your talents. You’ll hear no objections from me. Beside, we’ll be bloody close enough to pull your arse out of the fryer should anything go south.”
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