Cliff Ryder: The Powers That Be

“I know this might not be your normal field of expertise, but have you heard anything about exiles making a move on Paradise—whispers of European or other PMCs involved, anything like that?”

She didn’t get the reaction she had hoped for—there was an indrawn hiss of breath, then Jonas’s calm voice returned.

“I haven’t thought of Paradise in a long time. Officially, I’ve never even been there. I would have thought Denny would be your go-to man for this.”

“I figured your background would give you more expertise, given your former company’s interest in antiterror operations.” Kate checked her watch. Eight minutes left.

“Since the Bay of Pigs failure, there have been militant organizations, such as Alpha 66 and Assault Brigade 2506, that have advocated a violent overthrow of the government. But there hasn’t been anything large scale other than the attacks by the now disbanded Omega 7 group in the late 1970s. Over the past three decades there have been small-scale events, the occasional bomb threat or kidnapping, but nothing indicating a bigger operation lately. There are always rumblings of varying degrees, but as far as I know, there hasn’t been any real movement on a grand scale, just guerrilla operations, small hit-and-run and sabotage missions. I take it things have changed?”

“Apparently, since I’m heading to the conference room to discuss that very possibility. I’ll probably be convening a meeting of the department heads afterward, so don’t go anywhere. In fact—” she tapped a few keys on her computer

“—I’m making the file available to all department heads now.

Take a look while I’m getting approval, and if you’d care to draw up some plans, I’d appreciate whatever input you can provide.”

“Kate—” Jonas paused, as if he was thinking about what to say, which she found odd. The ex-commando was never at a loss for words. “As I’ve said, I was never officially there. But if something is happening, I’d like to be involved.”

“No offense, Jonas, but I thought you were retired. And besides, isn’t Paradise a bit far from your normal field of operations?”

He chuckled, a warm sound through the phone. “Kate, what the world doesn’t know about some countries’ special-forces missions could fill a hundred books, and still not tell everything. Besides, do you remember how we got that particular asset in Cuba? He was on a training junket in Spain when our man made contact. As the agent in charge, I was closer than you might think. Just keep it in mind, if you would.”

“Of course, Jonas. I’ll be in touch afterward. Goodbye.”

Kate broke the connection and paced, pondering the conversation. Jonas had probably already been to Cuba, as GSG-9 had operated around the world, and he’d also been involved in some kind of elite search-and-recovery team inside the organization. Although she knew he kept himself very fit, and could probably still handle himself in most situations, he wasn’t an operative in his prime, either. Still…he would be an excellent lead for the operation, particularly if an extraction was needed. Marcus could be the operating pointman, with Jonas gathering intel in the Cuban population in Miami. He could serve as backup if needed.

Kate sat in her desk chair again, mulling over the sketchy plan. It was a risk—typically, Room 59 missions were carried out as clandestinely as possible, using local resources as available. Sending not one, but two officers with direct agency ties into an area could prove extremely hazardous if the mission failed. Kate imagined the look on Judy’s face when she gave her the news, as well as the one on the British woman’s face if it all went wrong. I’ll just play this by ear and see what comes of it, she decided.

Slipping on the viewscreen glasses again, Kate scrolled through her options until the conference room was highlighted. Activating the connection with a blink, the projected computer desktop faded away, replaced by a comfortably appointed meeting room, with nine leather chairs arrayed around a hardwood conference table. Judy was already there, nodding curtly as Kate established her presence through the virtual private network that let her meet with the heads of the International Intelligence Agency, the overseers of Room 59.

Even though she had been the director for more than a year, Kate always felt a thrill whenever she came before the IIA board. Every time a mission was approved, she knew this was why fate or circumstance or maybe even her own dogged persistence had placed her here—to cut through the red tape of partisan opinions and complacency and do what needed to be done.

After the 9/11 disaster, governments around the world had tightened their intelligence and security protocols in many different ways. Some, like America’s white elephant, the Department of Homeland Security, were in vain, public attempts to show that the wounded superpower was actually doing something in response to the blood that had been shed with the fall of the Twin Towers. It didn’t take long, however, for the organization to become just as compart-mentalized, overgrown and slow to act as the rest of the intelligence community. The bickering and partisanship began all over again, only with a brand-new participant scrabbling for its slice of the budget pie and squabbling over duties and powers, instead of doing the job it had been created for—

protecting the nation from all threats, foreign and domestic.

Kate had often thought that if the President had really wanted to utilize his post 9/11 goodwill effectively, he’d have summoned all the heads of Washington’s alphabet soup—CIA, FBI, NSA, DOD, DIA, Joint Chiefs and all the rest—together in a room, locked the door and placed armed guards in front of it. He’d tell them they were staying there until they came up with a comprehensive plan to improve intelligence gathering and sharing among all of their agencies, both at home and abroad. Of course, that would have required independent thought and a will to actually get something done on Capitol Hill, Kate thought. Instead poli-ticians did the next-best thing in their minds—spent billions of dollars on a very public but useless solution that couldn’t even help its own citizens in a time of national emergency, like a hurricane striking the Gulf Coast.

Fortunately, a group of like-minded individuals from around the world saw the need for an organization that could accomplish what the Homeland Security was supposed to do, only on a global scale. They also recognized that, despite the tremendous cost, they had been given the perfect opportunity to create such an agency. Room 59 was the result of that consensus. It was a completely decentralized agency with the power and ability to go wherever it was needed and do whatever was necessary to defuse, derail or otherwise prevent a potential or growing threat from becoming a full-blown crisis situation. Operating with the secret mandate of the United Nations, and the unofficial approval of every major espionage agency around the world, Room 59 handled the blackest of black operations, and viewed its operations with an eye toward protecting the world and its population, not simply one country, region or continent.

Naturally, this required a special kind of intelligence officer to execute the wide-ranging and hazardous missions assigned to Room 59 operatives. Having the absolute authority to go anywhere, any time, and take any measures necessary to accomplish a mission could corrupt the noblest of motives. Kate was determined to ensure that didn’t happen. The one adage that stuck in her mind was a well-known.

“Who watches the watchers?”

From her first day, she had assumed that mantle, and while she would take whatever measures necessary to protect both her operatives and the agency, she also knew that there had to be safeguards in place to ensure that the board or a department head didn’t take on a personal vendetta or crusade.