Peter Kirsanow - Target Omega

“ What? ” Olivia’s outburst drew the attention of surrounding diners. She immediately lowered her voice. “Six Iranians now? What could he possibly be thinking?”

Dwyer wasn’t especially surprised by Olivia’s reaction. The last she’d heard, Garin had shot two men in Dale City. She was smart enough to conclude that Garin had done so in self-defense. But the body count was adding up. It was difficult for a civilian to absorb.

“Olivia, I told you, this is what Mike does—”

Olivia cut him off. “You mean start mini-wars on American soil? Reenact the Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre?” Although her voice was hushed, her tone was one of exasperation. She’d invested valuable time with this band of former special operators. They had impressed her as responsible and civilized. Now it appeared that Garin was nothing more than a rampaging thug shooting up the countryside. Relying on such a man was imprudent, to say the least.

“Before you get all righteously indignant,” Dwyer said firmly, “you just might want to consider the circumstances. Mike’s entire team has been wiped out. His mentor was shot and left for dead. Multiple teams of Iranian assassins have been hunting him for the last several days.”

Dwyer’s voice became sharper and more strident with each word. He liked and respected Olivia. She seemed to have an admiration for the military sometimes lacking among many of the people who traveled in her circles. But even someone as grounded as Olivia often had difficulty appreciating the terms under which men like Garin operated.

“Not only that, but his own government is trying to kill him,” Dwyer continued, noticing Olivia’s eyebrows arch upon hearing the statement. “That’s right. And I’m not talking about the cops or the FBI. Someone’s decided that Mike is sufficiently dangerous that he needs to be taken out — no Miranda rights, no trial, no judge, no jury — just killed immediately, no questions asked. Like some rabid animal that needs to be put down. So you might want to consider forgiving him for acting in self-defense when teams of assassins come gunning for him.”

Olivia’s demeanor quickly changed from prosecutorial to contrite. “Look, Dan, you guys get enough crap without having to hear it from someone like me. I get it. I do. I just reacted to hearing the number — six men killed.” Olivia paused and shook her head. “But I’m having a hard time believing that the United States government is trying to kill Michael Garin. What makes you say that? What evidence do you have?”

“Mike told me that two nights ago in upstate New York, more than a dozen men, armed to the gills, came looking for him. They came on military helos. Not only were they armed to the teeth, they moved like military. Mike was able to identify one of them. He’s a Delta Force sniper.”

“Delta Force?” Olivia said incredulously. “Dan, seriously, no one in government could give that order. Not even the president.”

“Well, someone gave it. Mike saw the sniper again this morning. He was outside the Crowne Plaza during the FBI raid, poised to hit Mike if he made an appearance.”

Olivia sank into the back of her chair as she processed what she’d just heard. The waiter returned with their drinks and a basket of bread. Olivia waited until he left before speaking.

“I have to say I don’t think this is something I’m at all equipped to handle. I’m an aide to the national security advisor. I can talk to you about the implications of the START II Treaty on missile defense or what side the US should take in the Kashmir dispute. But this”—Olivia shrugged, palms upturned—“this is spook stuff, serious spook stuff. What am I supposed to make of this?”

“Help Mike, Olivia.”

“Help him how? What can I possibly do?”

“You work for a man who has the president’s ear. You don’t have to interfere with the FBI investigation. Just tell them the truth. Tell them Mike was set up in Dale City, that it was self-defense. And that you have credible evidence that Delta Force has targeted him.”

“Do I? Do I have credible evidence? Listen to what you’re saying. I’m supposed to go to the FBI and say, ‘Hey, guys, that Michael Garin you’re looking for was set up by an Iranian hit squad, the same squad that wiped out the US counter-WMD strike force. They’re still trying to kill him, as is Delta Force, by the way. So cut him some slack, okay?’ Is that what you expect me to say?”

“It’s precisely because you’re an aide to Brandt that they’ll take it seriously. They need to start looking for the real bad guys.”

“What do I say when they ask me where I got the information?”

“That you got it from one of the Pentagon’s biggest contractors; a guy who’s got multiple clearances; a guy who’s been vetted a thousand times by the FBI, DOD, and a half dozen committees of Congress. And who’s witty, charming, and exceedingly handsome.”

“They’ll ask me for a name, Dan. If I don’t cooperate, they’ll hit me with obstruction.”

“Tell them it’s Dan Dwyer. Hell, tell them Mike’s been calling me on a regular basis. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“They’ll want to know where Mike is. Do you know where to find him?”

Dwyer hesitated. “I know where he was last night, but he’s probably not there anymore.”

“You provided him with a place to stay, didn’t you?” An adult remonstrating a child.

“He’s probably not there anymore,” Dwyer repeated.

Olivia sighed. Arguing with Dwyer was futile. The type of man who became a Navy SEAL was the type who would die before quitting almost anything, even an argument. But beyond that, he was right. The FBI needed to know the facts. Whatever the Russians and Iranians were up to, it had to be bad.

“Even if they go for it, they’ll want Garin to turn himself in,” Olivia said.

“Fat chance.”

“They’ll tap your phones, monitor your e-mail,” Olivia said, a final parry before yielding.

“Let them try. My systems will have them so screwed up they’ll end up listening to the French prime minister placing an order for truffles with his mistress’s chocolatier.”

“Okay,” she relented. “I’ll give it a shot. I’ll talk to the FBI about the Iranian operators, about Michael being set up. I need to clear it with Jim, but I think he’ll be okay with it. But the issue of Delta is another matter entirely. I don’t even know where to begin there — they’ll seriously doubt my credibility, if not my sanity. No one, I mean no one, can give an order to American military to kill Michael Garin on American soil, except in the most extraordinary of circumstances. And even if someone had, no one will ever admit to it. It could only have come from the highest levels. We’re playing with fire here, Dan. Four alarm.”

The waiter returned with Olivia’s entrée. Again, Olivia and Dwyer paused until the waiter departed before resuming the conversation.

“I understand about Delta,” Dwyer said. “Start with James Brandt. Tell him about Delta first. See what he thinks. Let’s see if the Oracle has a solution. But make it fast. Mike’s out there by himself. I’m not so worried about the Iranians, but Delta is a concern even for Mike Garin.”

“Now, in return for doing this, I want to talk to Michael directly,” Olivia insisted.

“I don’t think Mike will object. In fact, I think he’ll be happy to do so. Next time he calls…” Dwyer paused as he watched the hostess lead Julian Day and another man to a table at the other end of the restaurant. Day sat with his back toward Dwyer, while his dinner companion sat facing him. While Day’s appearance was reptilian, the other man’s was amphibian. His short, squat frame, bald pate, and bulging eyes made him resemble a bloated frog.