Maelstrom. Don Pendleton
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Barbara Price told Phoenix Force.
McCarter’s face filled the computer screen in the Communications Center of the Annex. John Kissinger—on a charter flight back to the States—was also on the conference line via his cellular phone, but he had no video feed.
“Sound like a nice bunch,” Kissinger interjected.
Price talked about their conversation with Lyons, then said, “We’re convinced these two incidents are connected, and we’re also sure these won’t be the last.”
“You have any luck with those tapes we sent?” Encizo’s voice cut in, although Price couldn’t actually see his face.
“Bear and Carmen are now working with facial recognition software to see if they can identify any of the dead and tie them to any of the members Able Team neutralized in New York. We’re also analyzing the prototypes data you sent to see what connections we can pull from that.”
“What else do we know about this group?” McCarter asked.
Price frowned. “Not much. They’re relatively new to this game.”
“Couldn’t prove it by us,” T. J. Hawkins said. “This attack was well planned and coordinated. They were obviously practiced and ready for any eventuality.”
“They managed to take us by surprise,” Gary Manning said.
“Only the fact we were separated saved our hides,” Calvin James added. “If we’d been together when it went down, we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”
“It’s good to hear you’re back to your old self, Calvin,” Price said, smiling into the camera.
James’s grinning countenance suddenly filled the screen, pushing McCarter slightly out of view. “Thanks, Barb, because it damn sure feels good to be alive.”
McCarter took back center stage and with a cock-sure grin and sideways glance, said, “You can play nice-nice later, mate.”
The line erupted with laughter.
“Okay, enough with the court jester routine,” Price said, although she knew they weren’t taking her that seriously. She was happy to know everyone was still breathing. The morning’s news had really worn on her.
“What about the prototypes, Barb?” Kissinger asked. “Is there anything you think can help us there?”
“Possibly, but I’m not sure how far we can go. As you know, although Phoenix Force may not have been told, we were first alerted to this from a Pentagon connection of Hal’s. There’s a Navy man who spent considerable time consulting with the design and development engineers at Stormalite’s headquarters near Lake Victoria. His name is Kendall Remar, a rear admiral with the Naval Air Warfare Detachment at NAF Key West. What I need you to do, Cowboy, is to divert there. He’s expecting you. He has a wealth of additional information he can provide, which we then need you to forward to us and the field crews.”
“No problem,” Kissinger replied.
“What about us?” McCarter asked.
“I think I can help out there,” Kurtzman replied, wheeling up next to where Barbara Price stood with her arms folded. “I have Carmen sending an upload to you now. We connected two of those faces with a photo capture by a camera posted at the airport. We don’t have positive IDs on either of these guys yet, but we have confirmed they’re both players you went up against at the conference.”
“Where are they headed?” McCarter asked.
“Well, we can only guess as to final destination, but the plane they boarded was headed for Spain.”
“Seems like a strange place to go,” Gary Manning interjected.
“Not really,” Price replied. “There is significant support in Spain for a wide variety of terrorist organizations. We’ve known this for years, actually, but because of very stringent laws and Spain’s influence in both the UN and the European Union, we’ve never really considered the risks of operating there worth the potential costs in U.S. foreign relations.”
“Of course,” McCarter said, snorting. “We wouldn’t want to upset those protecting terrorists. That would be a bloody shame.”
“I know the politics are something that sticks in your craw, guys, but you know there’s little I can do about that,” Price said.
Price was very empathetic to the teams. Walking the line they had to walk was difficult. It certainly wasn’t something she could have brought herself to do; her political convictions were a little too strong for that. But the members of Able Team and Phoenix Force had to temper those convictions and maintain some level of neutrality. Still, it didn’t stop them from bitching about it, and Price saw no reason to begrudge them being able to verbalize. Most of the time, it was just a way to blow off steam.
“So where do we go from here?” James asked.
“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,