Terminal Guidance

“Writing pads and pens. Most importantly a top-of-the-range laptop computer. It must have a large-capacity hard drive. USB connections. And a number of flash drives, again with large storage capacities.”

Qazi nodded. “All these things will be provided. Anything you require. The colonel has ordered that you must have the best.”

Fazeel found it hard to conceal his rising excitement. He stared at the UAV, understanding that he alone would control this machine. Make it carry out the tasks asked of him. It was a great responsibility. Only for a second did he feel inadequate to the task. The feeling quickly vanished. The colonel had entrusted him with the operation. It was a great honor. He would not let Rahman down. He would prove his worth. To the cause and to himself.

Gwadar Port, Balochistan, Southwest Pakistan

“THE CARGO HAS ARRIVED, Colonel,” the caller said. “The freighter docked last night. The goods are being unloaded even as we speak.”

“All in good order?”

“Yes, Colonel. The voyage was without incident.”

“And the freight aircraft?”

“Ready at the airfield. It will take off once the cargo is on board.”

“Good news indeed. Once it arrives we can step up the operation.”

CHAPTER ONE

The White House, Washington, D.C.

The President of the United States waited in uneasy silence while Hal Brognola read through the assembled data. The two men were alone in the Oval Office. The President had made it known he was not to be disturbed for any reason less than the imminent outbreak of total war.

Hal Brognola, director of the Stony Man SOG organization, was aware of the other man’s close scrutiny. He did not allow it to intimidate him. He read the file, absorbing much of the detailed information as he went through it. Later he would reread and assimilate the data so he could assign his people to the operations that would follow. Now he needed talking points he could discuss with the President.

Brognola laid the file back on the desk.

“And you want Stony Man to take this on board why?”

The President kept a straight face. Brognola’s response might have been judged a little out of order, but the President understood the big Fed’s question. He knew how Brognola worked—always direct, respectful to his commander in chief, but wanting specifics when it came to committing his teams to the field.

“The U.S. is on a high wire where Pakistan is concerned. Trying to keep the administration on our side as an ally and at the same time keeping a watchful eye on elements in the country who would like nothing better than to see us kicked out. The extremists see the U.S. as opportunists with an eye on the main chance. Plenty of people over there simply don’t like us. Don’t like what we stand for, and see America as an imperialistic nation that wants Pakistan as just another stepping stone in a long-term plan to subjugate their corner of the world.

“That’s not the way we see things, Hal. Yes, we have an interest in the country and the area. I don’t see our involvement as anything but prudent, given how the extremists want al Qaeda and the Taliban to gain a greater foothold in the region. I see our obligation to the Pakistani president clearly. He’s doing what he can to hold things down, but he has people in his administration who are sympathetic to the extremists. And we know only too well how dedicated these extremists are.”

The President tapped the file on the desk. “These assassinations are an undeclared act of aggression against the U.S.A. There has been an internet posting stating that the killings are just to show us we can be hurt wherever we are. That the U.S. and its rabid allies have no protection from the followers of Allah. The details they put in the postings reveal they had in-depth information on the people murdered. They claim this is only a beginning and suggest what might follow when the curtain goes up. This group is taunting us, letting us know they can hit us when and where they like. They warn of a larger terrorist strike both here and in Pakistan. That’s worrying, Hal. We need to act. Our people have been killed because they were, according to their reports, starting to get information on the extremists. It saddens me to admit that we might have a traitor in the ranks.

“The U.S. has allies in the war against terrorism. We’re not on our own. There are deep ties to other security agencies across the globe. Europe. The U.K. Information passes back and forth. Links are formed between departments. There are multiagency teams. I don’t need to tell you how it works, Hal, but the fact that delicate information reached the assassination team suggests they were fed by a source inside our combined agencies. If there is a mole somewhere in our ranks it’s going to make any decisions we make hard to isolate. I want this handled by Stony Man, Hal, in case we do have someone passing information to the enemy. I can’t hand this over to our security departments knowing sensitive information could be intercepted and used against us. Stony Man is a separate entity, with no allegiance to any other departments here or abroad.”

The President leaned forward, fixing Brognola with an unflinching stare. “The main reason I want you in on this, Hal, is information I received from a genuine source.” He didn’t elaborate, so Brognola passed, and the President said, “I understand your curiosity about that, but I can’t say anything right now. Just take my word it’s on the level. The asset has warned that the threat of the strikes is real. There will be an attempted strike in Pakistan and on the U.S. mainland. Hal, it’s going to be nuclear. And we have a name. Colonel Jabir Rahman.”

The President sat upright, fixing his gaze on Brognola. “That a good enough reason for you to bring Stony Man in?”

“Good enough, Mr. President.”

War room

Stony Man Farm

AROUND THE CONFERENCE room table sat the members of Phoenix Force and Able Team, along with the cyber group under the leadership of Aaron Kurtzman. Hal Brognola and Barbara Price sat at the head of the table. Once the general banter had been exhausted, everyone settled down for the mission agenda. First up was the youngest member of Aaron Kurtzman’s team, Akira Tokaido.

“We didn’t have a great deal to work with,” he said. “The information Hal handed us was based on existing data from various agency reports, so we used that to feed our own files and search for links.”

He used a handheld remote to pull images onto the plasma monitors ranged around the War Room walls.

“This is Colonel Jabir Rahman, the guy whose name keeps cropping up when we dig. A Pakistani military guy with diplomatic credentials. The man does not like the U.S. Outspoken in his criticism of American policy and our involvement in the region, he is also not much of a fan of the Pakistani administration. He’s been in any number of confrontations with the Pakistani president. Rahman has a lot of influence with extremist groups, sections of the military and sympathizers among the general public.”

The image on the monitor showed a man in his late thirties, uniformed and with an erect military bearing. Rahman would have been called handsome by women. His features were strong, his eyes dark and penetrating. His black mustache was neatly trimmed, his thick, oiled hair just starting to show streaks of gray. Overall, he displayed an arrogant image. A confident man who would command respect and not be shy to correct anyone who failed to give it.

“So why is he in the frame?” Carl Lyons asked. The broad, powerfully built ex-cop was the leader of Able Team. “He a bad guy?”

“Rahman has been on numerous agency lists for a number of years,” Brognola said. “He comes and goes without challenge because he has diplomatic immunity. He knows he’s on watch lists, and enjoys playing the game. The Brits, U.S., French and Spanish have all had him in their sights. Rahman is a slippery guy.

“There’s a source in Pakistan who points the finger at Rahman. Apparently, he’s close to the man’s group and picked up on conversations about the upcoming operation, passed it on, then dropped out of sight. The guy is working undercover, so there’s no way to get in touch with him. Right now there’s no knowing if he’s alive or dead.”

“So do we accept his information as genuine?” McCarter asked. The fox-faced Briton was the leader of Phoenix Force.

“This came via the President, who told me the guy can be trusted and so can his word.”

“Piecing together every hit we’ve found suggests there’s definitely something going on,” Price said. “Rahman and the names linked to him, the recent visits between these people, their allegiances and a pretty strong hint anything Western goes against their thinking all add up to something big,” the mission controller explained.

“Doesn’t stop them making money from us,” James said.

“Yeah? Well, what they make goes toward the latest atrocity,” Lyons said testily.

“Freedom of speech and beliefs,” Rafael Encizo said. “And before you jump in and bite my head off, Carl, it’s what this country is all about. We start discriminating against religious and political diversity, we end up just like them.”

Lyons took a deep breath. It seemed he was about to challenge Encizo’s comments, but then he shook his head. “Rafe, you’ve got too many smart answers for me.”

The truth was Carl Lyons knew exactly what Encizo was saying. It was one of life’s ironies. Individuals who had nothing but contempt for America were able to live and work within its borders, their freedom and right to free expression protected by law. Until they actually went ahead and committed some crime, without definite proof there was nothing that could be done except put them on a watch list. Watch being the operative word.

“Rahman has a number of dubious friends.” Carmen Delahunt, a valued member of Kurtzman’s cyber team, the vivacious redheaded former FBI agent spoke decisively. She raised a hand to Tokaido, and more images appeared on the plasma screens. “Take your pick. The skinny guy is Umer Qazi. He is under suspicion of being an arranger for various flaky organizations within the Islamic world. He has ties to al Qaeda, so the story goes. In Afghanistan he was spotted in the company of Taliban members. On the surface he’s polite, urbane. Don’t underestimate him. The man is smart. Apparently he coaches young Muslims into becoming hard-liners. Likes to visit London a lot.”

“And while he’s there,” Tokaido said, “he spends time with this guy, Samman Prem. Prem owns an export-import company based in the city, with a warehouse facility on Tilbury docks—you know the place, David?”

McCarter nodded. “Large port area. Used to be a lot bigger years ago. Still a busy place.”

“Prem ships mainly to Pakistan and India. Some in the Middle East. He uses freighters belonging to Saeeda Hussein. He’s another suspect, wealthy and not a lover of Western ideology. They’re both on a watch list because of their affiliations, but that’s as far as it goes. Prem especially has been known to express his anti-Western views privately.”

“I traced Prem’s cell phone calls,” Kurtzman said. “Discounting nonimportant stuff, that left a lot of contacts. I broke them down into blocks.” He worked his own remote, and lists appeared on a plasma screen. “Most calls were to this number. I ran it, and it came up as belonging to Khalil Amir. Originally from Pakistan. Had an import business over there until he relocated to the U.S.—Boston to be exact. Still works the import business, but now also deals in real estate.”

Akira Tokaido brought up images of the named men.

“Interesting points are that both these guys have a history of being involved with our friend Colonel Jabir Rahman. We picked this up from a sweep of friendly agencies. British intelligence have been running a dossier on Rahman for a couple of years. He’s suspected of having links with radical sympathizers based in Europe, as well as Pakistan and the U.K.”

“This sweep of friendly agencies?” Brognola queried. “How should I interpret that?”