Gathering Storm

Kurtzman picked up a printed sheet. “This is an extract from one of the Intelligence Analysis think tanks. Something to bear in mind. ‘Ex Ba’ath Party members will seek out their stolen money so they can rearm themselves. Part of their strategy will be to move into organized crime in order to reestablish themselves. It has to be remembered that these people were used to the best of everything and will want to retain their status. But they will also do what they can to infiltrate the Iraqi ruling party to destabilize it and get some control over the government. They will attempt to stir up trouble between all the various classes within Iraq society. Their ultimate aim will be to create unrest. Mistrust. A sense of loss of national identity.”’

Lyons leaned back in his seat. His question had been answered. It was the same for all of them. In an ongoing tactical situation, where balances had to be weighed, there were times when choices to be made might not look so clean-cut in the light of day. There was no easy way around that kind of dilemma. A man had to deal his hand and live with the consequences.

“Initial missions,” Price said to break the contemplative silence. “Able, you need to follow up these mainland threats. Pick up where Phoenix left off. Nuevo Laredo. Your contact in there is Tomas Barranca. If there’s any talk about these arms deals Phoenix hit on, Barranca is your man.” She handed over files for the team to study.

“Aaron,” she said.

Kurtzman brought images and data on-screen. “Tomas Barranca. This is the house he rents on the Nuevo Laredo outskirts. His car. This is the cantina he frequents. He’s pretty friendly with the guy who owns the place. That’s him.”

“Who does this guy work for?” Blancanales asked.

“You could call him a freelance,” Price said. “In the past he’s had associations with the CIA. Did some good work for the DEA in tandem with the Mexican drug squads. Lately he’s been doing fieldwork for Justice. His name came up when Leo handed over those photos of Khariza.”

“Sounds a risky way to earn a living,” Schwarz said. “How does he do it?”

“Simple,” Price said. “He’s careful.”

While Able Team worked on the research Kurtzman had collated, Phoenix Force took their missions on board.

“I don’t like splitting you guys,” Price admitted, “but we’ve got too much ground to cover. Gary, Rafe, Cal—Italian Riviera. San Remo to be exact. See if you can get a line on Khariza and his people. Check on the villa where Abe Keen spotted them. We have to start somewhere. That’s as good a place as any. See if they’re still in the area. Everything current we have on Khariza and his buddies from the old regime is here in these files.

“David, you and T.J. are booked for London. You’ll meet with Ben Sharon and he’ll brief you about Sharii. Right now that’s all I can give you. Sharon says the guy is terrified of Khariza’s people finding him.”

“Not the wisest choice of places to hide out then,” McCarter observed. “There are a bloody lot of Iraqi expats living in London, as well as the illegal visitors. Sooner we get there, the better.”

“Get your stuff together,” Price said. “You’ll be going home courtesy of the U.S. government’s own airline.”

McCarter groaned. “U.S. Airlift Command again? Christ, have you ever eaten the bloody stuff they serve on those flights?”

Hawkins grinned at the Briton’s grumbling. “Cheer up, old fruit,” he said in mock English. “Let’s get you to Blighty and you can ’ave a plate of fish and chips down the Old Kent Road.”

McCarter glared at the younger Phoenix Force commando. “T.J., don’t you ever do that again. If I even thought I sounded like that I’d go and join Bin Laden in a bloody Afghan cave and never show my face again.”

In the background Lyons’s dry tones were heard. “Does he mean it?”

“We live in hope,” Blancanales replied.

“Okay, people, listen up,” Kurtzman said. “No moving out until we go through the rest of my background data. I managed to locate another batch of photographs showing more of Khariza’s Iraqi buddies. They’ll come in handy if you come up against them. Always helps to know the players.”

There were groans all around.

“Somebody give me a tranquilizer,” Blancanales said.

Kurtzman beamed at them. “That’s what I like to hear. Enthusiasm. Now somebody bring me some of my coffee. I wouldn’t want to dry up halfway through.”

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