Citadel Of Fear

“SO WE’RE BAIT,” Carl Lyons concluded.

It was a simple plan, but from where Lyons sat it sucked. Able Team was to go to Europe, to essentially pose as Phoenix Force to fool the enemy, while the real Phoenix Force led the enemy straight to Able Team.

“That’s about it,” Price confirmed. “I discussed it with Hal, and he agrees we’re boxed in.” Price was referring to Hal Brognola, Director of the Special Operations Group. Brognola was fully engaged running interference in Washington, DC, but was in constant touch with his mission controller. “Risky, yes, but it’s our best bet. And he’s got the President’s go-ahead.”

Rosario Blancanales shrugged and looked at Schwarz. “Wouldn’t be the first time we’re the cheese in the mousetrap.”

All three members of Able Team were seated at the War Room conference table with Price and Kurtzman.

Price outlined the plan. “When the bad guys went after Phoenix the first time, they had eyes in the sky. We think they will again, and we think they are going to make one hell of an attempt at capturing you. Whoever is behind all this is extremely well-funded, has access to the absolute latest technology and seems to be up to something. The good news is we are as much a mystery to them as they are to us. And, after Gdansk and Karmal, the first two rounds go to the Farm. Whoever these people are, they must be in pretty desperate need to find out who we are and fast. The flip side of that is we have to expect the next fight to get real nasty.”

Schwarz considered the technology he had been examining for the past twenty-four hours. “This sure stinks like a trap.”

“A trap within a trap within a trap,” Kurtzman agreed. “It’s very Russian. The advantage we have is that it is a trap on both sides, and Phoenix Force will be sort of a reverse Trojan horse on the inside. I think the most likely scenario is that Phoenix and whomever the bad guys send along with them will be cannon fodder and a diversion. You need to expect to get hit by a second force, and expect them to come in with overwhelming force. Given the tech they put in their UAVs, we have to expect they have access to satellite imaging and absolutely top-notch ground surveillance. So will we. It will be a question of who catches who watching who first.”

Blancanales thought it was the worst plan in the world except that no one was coming up with anything better. He turned to his mission controller. “What is Phoenix’s disposition going to be?”

Price started laying out details. “David is sticking with a three-man team of him, Manning and Propenko going in. The good news for you is that Cal and Hawk will be seconded to Able Team.”

Schwarz pumped his fist. “Yes!”

“Jack will involve Dragonslayer and he will be armed. The bad guys must think we are some sort of clandestine operation—they probably won’t be expecting a gunship. Of course, given what happened in Karmal, we have to expect they may have air power, as well.”

Blancanales perked up hopefully.

“Does that mean we get Rafe, as well?” Lyons asked.

“You do. We have reason to suspect the Russian force they give Propenko will be considered expendable. When it hits the fan, we think there is a good chance they will follow Propenko wherever he leads. So you and Phoenix may end up with a small army of your own. And, yes, Encizo will be on your team.”

Lyons brought up the question of the day. “There was already a mysterious battle on the Polish-Kaliningrad border. Don’t you think the Polish police and border patrol are pretty stirred up as it is?”

“If it comes down to a pitched battle, you will have to expect Polish security forces to come in fast and hard,” Price admitted.

Blancanales spoke for himself and the team. “This sucks.”

“This is our best shot to get something real on the bad guys—on the ground, eyes in the sky or in cyber space. The good news is we are positioning you absolutely primo gear. The bad news?” Barbara Price stared fondly at her boys. “You need to be in Poland in twelve hours.”

CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_45218440-51ea-5925-8b70-57ce3e8068af)

Kaliningrad. Warehouse District.

Propenko snapped his team to attention. He scowled over the nine men standing in line as if he might just condescend to let them lick his boots, but only the soles. He shook his head in disgust and pointed at McCarter. “This man is God! I am prophet! Do you have any questions?”

None did.

Manning smiled and spoke low to McCarter. “Nice touch.”

Gaz the Bagman had turned out to indeed be a bag of money.

Rather than accept bully boys from Moscow, Propenko had taken the money and privately gone shopping. It had been a risk, but McCarter had gone along with it. Propenko had used his personal connections and found ten Russian military policemen of the Western Military District, special oblast unit, who were more than willing to make some cash on the side. Save that one was missing; McCarter was pleased with the transaction.

All of the assembled men had the Russian Federation equivalent of fast-reaction-team training and all of them spoke English. Several were local boys and spoke Polish. All had proved themselves as tough, capable and utterly corruptible soldiers. Being utterly corrupt military police in Fortress Kaliningrad, they had easily been able to acquire high-quality weapons and gear. They had brought a truckload of body armor, night-vision goggles, com gear and stubby, Kashtan submachine guns with sound suppressors and red-dot sights. As well, there was an assortment of grenades, though, the Phoenix Force leader knew, they were less than lethal flash-stuns and sting-ball, blunt-trauma weapons.

McCarter and Manning had helped themselves. It was good kit, but it was light, “slender gear’” as McCarter’s father would have said.

Every scenario the group had run ended up with the real enemy force coming in hard and heavy. Phoenix Force would have to rely on the reinforced Able Team and Dragonslayer to make up the difference.

Propenko strode up to McCarter and saluted. “They are ready for your inspection.”

“You said you’d hired ten.”

“I did.”

“Where is our missing military policeman?”

“Do not know. Missing man is youngest. Perhaps he is late, or screw up getting off duty tonight.”

“Well, then, we’ll just have to make do, won’t we?” McCarter scanned his squad. “They seem likely enough, I’ll give them that.”

“Good news is they are Russian boys. They have seen far too many action movies and shows on cable television. Trained from childhood to think officer with English accent is best of best. They will think you are James Bond or General Montgomery or both if you let them believe. I suggest you do.”

“Right.” McCarter strode forth and stopped just short of being a Monty Python skit as he laid it on thick. “Right! Listen here, you communist heathens!”

Several of the men smirked.

McCarter allowed it. He wanted cohesion and camaraderie on this one. Propenko could instill blind fear and obedience if the situation warranted. “The situation is simple. There happen to be some right bloody bastards in Poland who don’t belong there, and there are men in Moscow with money. Manna from bloody heaven, amounts of money, my lads!

“The pricks in Poland, who are squatting there quite unreasonably, have given the men in Moscow grief, added insult on top of injury, and cost them blood and money. The men in Moscow have shown the infinite good taste and wisdom to hire me. I have sent forth Mr. Propenko, and he has hired you. I am informed you are all Military Police—Voennaya Politsiya, VP—Western District, special unit. The best of the best! You know how to conduct a raid, how to kick ass and know how to take prisoners and collect evidence! The money men in Moscow would dearly love to speak with these men, so alive if possible. I am informed we will have satellite and ground level intelligence.”

The Russians nodded and made affirmative noises.

“You are all being issued communication gear. All battle instructions will be in English. This is Operation Red Wolf. We are Wolf Pack.”

The Russians liked the sound of it.

McCarter snarled. “Wolf Pack! Sound off!”

The Russians shouted out in domino effect. “Wolf One. Wolf Two. Wolf Three. Wolf Four, Wolf…”

“Memorize it,” McCarter ordered. “From now on we have no names. I am Alpha.” McCarter snapped his head toward Propenko. “He is Lobo.”

Wolf One was a black-haired, bearded, buff individual and he gave Manning a wary look. “Him?”

“He is Werewolf. He will be operating independently, with the biggest bloody rifle you have ever seen. If all goes well, we go in tonight. Until then, I am told we have been given unlimited privileges at Luffy-Land.”

Several Wolf Pack men made smothered throw-up noises. Others laughed.

“Right!” McCarter nodded at a table covered with steaming aluminum takeout dishes. “We have cots and Kazak barbecue. I personally recommend you stay here, eat your fill, check your weapons and sleep if you can. If we get the go-ahead? It will all happen very fast.”