Maelstrom

“Well, I just spoke with Jack and he’s waiting for you at Adelaide Airport. He’s fueled and ready to go. The plane that carried our two terrorists landed in Madrid less than twelve hours ago, so you’re not far behind.”

“Far enough,” Encizo pointed out.

“Listen, we’ve already got every operative in Spain on this,” Price said. “As soon as we know something, I promise we’ll let you in on it. We also have to consider that where two of these terrorists go, more are likely to follow.”

“Seems to me we ought to account for the possibility this pair is just a decoy,” Manning said. “Barb’s right about Spain being a terrorist group haven, but we could be headed on a wild-goose chase.”

“I agree,” Encizo added.

“Well, it’s not a bloody democracy here,” McCarter said, “and that means we’ll go with Barb’s plan. If we’re chasing our tails, then we’ll damn well find it out soon enough.”

“It’s a risk, but it’s one you’ll have to take,” Price said. “I’m sorry, but it’s the best lead we have right now and we should pursue it.”

“I’ll get you the information as quickly as I can on these prototypes, David,” Kissinger added. “That should at least help you be better prepared.”

“Having been close enough to see the abilities of those weapons firsthand,” Hawkins announced, “I can tell you we don’t stand a chance against this Resurrected Defense League if they decide to turn even the prototypes on us.”

“Then we’ll have to make sure we don’t give them that chance,” McCarter replied.

All of the Phoenix Force warriors nodded in agreement.

Cartagena, Spain

WALLACE DAVIDIA KEPT one eye on the door leading from the shipping warehouse and the other on his men as they unpacked the crates containing the prototypes for repackaging in new boxes.

Once they made their escape from Adelaide, they traveled to a remote location, quickly disassembled the weapons using specifications purchased from a former employee at Stormalite Systems, and then smuggled them as various parts of the ATVs. Triggers and firing mechanisms were stored in drained fuel tanks, barrels concealed in hollowed tail pipes. The electronic firing chips were removed and stored inside the instrumentation and the nonessential material was destroyed. Their engineers in Madrid could refabricate those parts. The ATVs were then sent to distributors throughout the city, and forged paperwork and purchasing documents called for them to be shipped to Cartagena by plane and boat. Originally, Boaz Rasham had suggested they ship the prototypes straight to Madrid, but Davidia disagreed. The more time wasted and false clues they threw any potential pursuers, the more difficult it would be for their enemies to pick up the trail. Thus far, Davidia’s plan had been successful, and he was proud of that.

But pride cometh before the fall, Davidia reminded himself.

“Wallace, I have to protest one more time my concerns about your plan,” Rasham said, intruding on Davidia’s introspection. “This is not efficient in any way. We’re wasting precious time. The sooner our engineers get these prototypes, the sooner we can move forward with this.”

Davidia turned, smiled and placed a firm hand on Rasham’s shoulder. “You are like a brother to me, you know this, but you have this annoying quality about you that tries me at moments. You need to learn patience.”

“I have tolerance,” Rasham replied. “And tolerance is an adequate substitute for patience. You’ve said so yourself.”

“True, but I’ve said that in the context of training others in our ways,” Davidia reminded him. “During an actual operation, patience is a preferable and admirable quality.”

Rasham waved as if shooing away an annoying insect. “Either way, our goal is to get results. I haven’t seen any.”

Davidia’s eyes swept the small warehouse, one of many that dotted the shores of Cartagena’s wharf district. “We successfully escaped with the prototypes and at an acceptable loss. You don’t consider those results?”

“I won’t split hairs with you, Wallace,” Rasham said. “And I won’t draw lines in the sand. I am a man of truth and candor. You know that about me, as much as I know it about you. I will always speak my mind.”

“And this is what I admire most about you,” Davidia replied. “But I was elected the leader of our group, and you seem unwilling to accept my plan.”

“If blind obedience is what you expected when we elected you to lead us to the remembered glory of our nation, then you accepted your nomination under misguided pretexts and arrogant assumption. After all, you’re an American.”

Davidia smiled, but he lent no warmth to it. “You’re coming dangerously close to crossing a line with me now, my friend. I’ve neither said nor done anything to suggest my men should follow me blindly. However, we should not forget that obedience to orders is a part of military discipline. The outsiders call us terrorists, and that’s their opinion, but I consider us soldiers for a cause. Soldiers don’t follow their leaders blindly because of some idealism, Boaz. They follow them because they know it’s a matter of discipline, and they’ll expect the same courtesy from their subordinates one day when they’re tasked to carry on our fight.”

Davidia paused for effect. “So please, don’t presume I’ve lost my objectivity by suggesting I’ve gone through some twisted process of self-deification. Like you, I’m human and bleed, and like you, I’ve suffered at the hands of others. So I leave the god complex to the fanatics of history. I’m just a soldier who happens to be a leader of soldiers. My past and my lineage have nothing to do with that. I’m in the here and now.”

Rasham smiled and shook his head. “That was quite a speech, and I still disagree with your plan. However, I cast my lot with you, so I will stay faithful to our cause and follow you to my death.”

Davidia threw his arm around Rasham and kissed his cheek. “I will make sure it does not come to that, brother. I would prefer that none of us should die, but I know this is the cost of war. You know it, too.”

The matter now behind them, Davidia and Rasham turned to the packaging activities. If all went as planned, they would be able to transport the weapons to Madrid by no later than the following afternoon. They could have started shipping some of it by truck tonight, but they had to wait for two of their people to arrive in Madrid and make preparations.

A sleeper group awaited there, including the engineers they had hired to manufacture copies from the prototypes, as well as a rather large guard unit. The RDL’s largest difficulty in the operation had been funds. Fortunately, splinter group supporters in America as well as those from small Kach-Kahane Chai units had helped the cause in that light. The operation was expensive. Obtaining weapons and other material at rock-bottom prices had been the easy part—it was financing the forged passports and shipping manifests, bribes to customs agents all over the Middle East, Europe and North America, and payments to the technical people, that had cost them a significant amount of money. That was one of the reasons that Davidia was taking his time. He wouldn’t rush the operation simply because he couldn’t rush it. Some of his investors were quite powerful people in the international community of terrorism and he had no aspirations to lose his head over this. Careful planning was the key; strategy and stealthy movements were the mechanisms to carry out the plans. He’d accounted for everything to the last detail.

Once they had the weapons, Davidia planned to split the group into two teams: one would go to the United States and the other to Israel. Reports and rumors were already coming in that their first attack in New York had been successful, although there was talk that they had lost the group to N.Y.P.D. tactical units. That was fine. Davidia had considered the possibilities and the risks that they might encounter. Their instructions had been clear: do not be taken prisoner.

They still had other cities to hit. Davidia had managed to catch a television report of the New York massacre and that there was now looting and rioting going on in a number of areas in the Big Apple heavily populated by Arabs and Jews. That was excellent news. Before it was over, they would find the same kind of trouble in Chicago, although Davidia’s unit was there only to scratch the tip of the iceberg. He planned to bring the prototypes with him and start a major war himself.

They had considered hitting other major cities, but the cost had become too great. By attacking just the major Arab-Jew population centers, word would spread like wildfire and there would be fallout in other cities sufficient to take eyes off of the RDL and its real goal. Terrorist alerts would rise, naturally, but by making it look as if this were a local problem and not one instigated on a global scale, the U.S. government would shift focus toward handling the domestic problems and make less consideration of any international fallout.

It was all just part of the plan. Davidia wasn’t worried about anyone discovering what was really happening. And even if they did, by the time anyone could muster a response, they would be well on their way toward reaching their goal. He predicted that within a month, RDL would have gained enough support to hold the Arab world at bay. Citizens in the Middle East would be afraid to come out of their own houses for fear of reprisal and the Israeli people would finally have the upper hand.

Yes, the Jews had been oppressed quite long enough. Once the Arabs were under control, RDL could then turn its attentions to the fascists, the Neo-Nazi and Skinhead movements. At last, the Jews of the world would stand united and unchallenged in accomplishing their goals. Jews everywhere could stop being afraid, because the Resurrected Defense League would become a veritable army of freedom fighters so powerful and massive that not even the superpowers of the world could oppose them.

And no one would ever steal from them again.

CHAPTER SIX

Boca Chica, Florida Keys

John “Cowboy” Kissinger stepped from the small, commercial jet and sucked in a breath of salty, humid air rolling in from the Atlantic. Formerly designated a naval air station, the NAF of Key West was not only the premier training facility for naval aviators, but also shared a tactical interagency relationship with Howard Air Force Base in Panama. The Overseas Highway connected Key West with Miami, traversing the clear, emerald waters where the Atlantic Ocean met the Gulf of Mexico.

More than five thousand personnel were assigned to Key West, about one-quarter of them active duty or reservists, while the remainder were family members or civilian support workers. Units included the U.S. Army’s Special Forces Combat Divers School, Joint Interagency Task Force-East and the U.S. Coast Guard Group Key West. There were also a half dozen annexes spread across five separate bases that supported the Caribbean Regional Operating Center, VF-101, Naval Security Group Key West, and more Marine and Navy testing facilities than anyone probably cared to count. In short, the place was a significant representation of U.S. military might by sea, air and land.

And it was a great place to be sent under the circumstances. Kissinger couldn’t help but think it nothing more than dumb luck at being directed here by Stony Man. He considered maybe staying a few extra days after the assignment was complete, or returning here for some R & R if he found himself having to go back to Stony Man for any reason.

A muscular, black man wearing the rank of lieutenant commander and wearing a nametag that read D. Paxton greeted Kissinger with a perfunctory salute. He then identified himself as Remar’s personal aid and offered to take Kissinger to Area Bravo III where Remar was waiting. After Kissinger advised Paxton he wasn’t Navy and preferred not being saluted, he squeezed his tall, lanky body into the Hummer and they were off.

At first, it didn’t seem like Paxton was all that chatty, but was naturally gregarious. It only took the Cowboy a minute to get Paxton to open up, and in a short time he’d learned Paxton was married with two kids, had been stationed here for the past year, and that his first name was Delmar.

“This is great,” Kissinger said. “I could get used to the weather here.”

“Is this your first time in Key West, sir?” Paxton asked.

Kissinger admitted it was.

“It’s quite a place,” Paxton replied. “Since I’ve been here, well, at least since I’ve worked for Admiral Remar, I’ve really enjoyed it.”

“What’s your home of record?”

“Cleveland, sir.”

“Then this must be quite a change for you.”

Paxton shrugged and said, “I guess so, sir. My first duty assignment after I graduated college and completed OCS was in Hawaii, so I’ve grown rather accustomed to this climate.”

“Think you’ll go back to Cleveland after all of this?”

Paxton smiled and said, “I doubt it, sir.”

“I wouldn’t, either.”

“I figure to go career. I like the Navy.”

Kissinger nodded although he didn’t say anything. In a lot of ways, Paxton reminded him of Calvin James. He had that charming grin and likable personality that made it seem easy to talk to the guy. He was also built like James, and it was apparent he kept in shape. He was still a pretty young guy, though, and he didn’t possess that dangerous something that was ever-present in Calvin. The black badass from Chicago carried an edge with him everywhere and into every situation. It wasn’t really anything obvious; it was just something that was.

“How do you like working for Admiral Remar?”

“He’s a good man, sir, and a fine officer,” Paxton replied.

Kissinger didn’t detect either hesitation or trepidation in Paxton’s tone. That showed conviction, which meant Kissinger could probably count on Remar to be a straightforward type. That was good, because the Stony Man weapons smith knew how important it would be that he get good, technical information to Kurtzman and Phoenix Force. The RDL terrorists were well organized and particularly dangerous, and Kissinger didn’t have time to battle with the territorial politics sometimes present in military environments.

In about ten minutes, they arrived at Area Bravo III. Paxton showed Kissinger to a cool but cramped office in one of the annex buildings, and after Kissinger declined his offer of something to drink, Paxton went away.

Kissinger studied the walls and shelves, trying to get a better feel for Remar. He didn’t really know what to expect; there hadn’t been time to have Stony Man send him a dossier. He did get a basic rundown of Remar’s career, which had turned out quite impressive. Remar had entered the U.S. Navy in 1966 at age seventeen as an enlisted man, and in three years attained a Petty Officer Second Class rating. Following action in Vietnam as part of a small support boat crew operating for a Marine recon unit, Remar returned to the States and was assigned to the Navy Yard in Washington, D.C.

On a couple of occasions, Remar had expressed his interest to superiors of applying for OCS in the hope of becoming a Navy SEAL, but the enlisted men among the ranks scorned his desire to be an officer. However, a lieutenant assigned to his unit took a special note of the young Remar’s abilities, and the officer used his diplomatic pull in Washington to get Remar into the Navy War College in 1977. He graduated with high honors and was promoted to ensign. His high marks and astute observations brought Remar to the attention of an officer serving under the Secretary of the Navy. The officer had been one of Remar’s instructors, and he remembered the young Kendall with the remarkable insights and intuition for oceanic air-warfare. The officer recommended Remar for assignment to the Naval Air Warfare Center, where Remar had served ever since with distinction. Over the years Remar had seen promotion after promotion and was now a two-star rear admiral.

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