Don Pendleton: Terror Trail

It was such dedication that enabled Kurtzman’s team to isolate a seemingly innocuous cell phone call and expand it into something useful.

Through the investigative skills of the cyber team, Shaia Kerim’s background biography had been established, giving the SOG a basis of fact. Kerim moved back and forth between Yemen and the States, his position in the Yemeni cultural administration allowing him access to museums and art galleries. His credentials were impressive. On the surface he was a moderate Muslim, his status as a mediator well-known. Now he had been identified as a Hand of Allah follower by Stony Man, his position had shifted. A probe into his past had uncovered his knowledge of the French language, attained during three years as a student in Paris. It also came out that he frequented a mosque in New York. The frequency of his visits gave Phoenix Force a way to allow James to make contact. It was a risk the warrior was willing to take.

Using his wide skills, Hunt Wethers worked on the bio information he had created for “Ibrahim Hammid,” aka Calvin James. Using his fertile imagination he came up with a plausible set of facts and figures, cleverly manipulated photo images and even background details on Hammid’s dead parents. The information was inserted into a number of databases to authenticate Hammid’s existence. With the same expertise, he built and inserted the details of Calvin James’s alter ego into the national criminal databases, knowing that Hand of Allah would check up on him if he made a worthwhile contact.

“We already have everything in motion,” Kurtzman said. “New identity. Family background. Paperwork. End of today we’ll have Cal vanish and Ibrahim Hammid will take his place.”

Price nodded. “Cover job and place to stay is already up and running. Background department has worked some heavy string-pulling to get this online. Cal, you’re only going to have a few days to get into character. Learn your back history so it’s word perfect and natural.” She peered along the table at James’s face. “That stubble and the longer hair is coming along fine. By the time you hit the streets you’ll look the part. We just need to outfit you in some hand-me-down clothes.”

“No problem,” James said. “David is going to lend me some of his.”

“And this is the bum who expects us to cover his arse out there,” McCarter said.

A crackle of laughter circled the table until Brognola held up his hand.

“Okay, let’s work on specifics. Able Team is all ready to work on the domestic scene. The information we were handed suggests Hand of Allah is negotiating the purchase of weapons to be brought into the country for use in this upcoming campaign. Intel we have points to the border country in the Southwest. Most likely coming up through Central America and into New Mexico. Our problem is the lack of real information. The who and where. The difficulty along that stretch of country is the groups already involved in trafficking drugs, people and guns.”

“Carl will sniff ’em out,” Hawkins said.

“I hope so,” Brognola said.

“David, if Calvin gets in with Hand of Allah and they move him to the training camp in Yemen, you guys will need to be on a following flight. I don’t want him out there on his own. The President has authorized a standby plane to take you across to Yemen so you can get yourselves embedded in Sana’a. The only solid piece of luck we have is that the Hand of Allah camp is believed to be around fifty miles across the border from Oman. That will give you somewhere to evacuate to if needed.”

“Aaron, give us what you have and we’ll move,” Carl Lyons said. “Anything. A name. Location. Something for us to work with.”

“We’ve been monitoring cell phone and email chatter. Using Echelon and the Zero station,” Kurtzman said. “Sifting through all that stuff is like looking for a particular grain of sand on a beach.”

Blancanales grinned. “Go ahead and tell us you found that grain.”

“What can I say? Carmen found something through the FBI network. Came up with two names. Carlos Gallegos. He’s a middleman who works both sides of the New Mexico border. He has past connections for the other guy Carmen came up with. Jack Regan.”

Every head around the table turned in Kurtzman’s direction.

Regan was a name known to them all. He had shown up in a number of previous Stony Man missions. The man was slippery, always managing to walk away even though deals he had been negotiating had been shut down. He would vanish but reappear somewhere else, and was known as a wily and persistent dealer in weapons.

“I wondered when that bugger was going to raise his head again,” McCarter said. “Been awhile since he showed up on the radar.”

“We did some deeper digging into his recent business dealings,” Kurtzman said. “He’s been busy wheeling and dealing. Latin America. Horn of Africa. Asia.”

“Busy lad,” McCarter said.

“And likely a wealthy one,” Brognola said. “Regan does nothing for chump change. Aaron uncovered some information that goes way back. Seems Regan has done deals with the CIA and even the Russians years ago. He’s nothing if not generous with his favors.”

“How do you figure he fits into this deal?” Lyons asked.

“We picked up on a cell phone call from Kerim to Gallegos.” Kurtzman shook his head. “These jokers will insist on calling each other thinking they’re safe using cells. The more technology improves, the more these idiots figure they can get in under the radar. Once we had Kerim’s cell ID it was simple enough to pull up his call list. Akira had his program run a breakdown on cell numbers. Gave us the ID of his contacts. Carlos Gallegos has been a busy boy. Last few weeks there have been at least a dozen conversations with Kerim. And Jack Regan’s name cropped up. Okay, the calls were nonspecific in content. But once you listen to them a few times, isolate key words, it’s plain they’ve been talking weapons purchase and delivery. There’s a deal in the pipeline and Regan is heading it up.”

“New Mexico and Carlos Gallegos,” Hermann “Gadgets” Schwarz said. “Sounds like a kick-off point.”

“Sounds like we need Grimaldi Air to fly us across to New Mexico,” Lyons said.

“You got it,” Price said. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

Lyons pushed to his feet. “Watch your backs, guys,” he said to Phoenix Force.

“And you, pal,” McCarter called as Able Team left the war room.

CHAPTER TWO

Jack Regan wore a creased white linen suit and a well-used white Panama hat. Those items were his trademark. He had been wearing a similar outfit the day he scored his first big deal and considered them his lucky dress. Over the years he had replaced the outfits as each one wore out, but always favored the same style and color.

Jack Regan dealt in weaponry of all kinds. Whatever the client wanted, Regan could usually supply it. He had clients and contacts across the globe, and in his circle he was considered one of the best. Regan had the knack of walking away if a deal went sour, and some had. It was part of the business. At the first sign of trouble he would turn around and leave. He hated to lose on a deal because Regan did not like losing money. But when push came to shove he valued his skin, and there were always other clients and other deals.

Right now he was negotiating with Shaia Kerim’s point man for the deal. Jamal Ryad was a shrewd, cold-eyed individual Regan would not have entertained for a split second if he hadn’t worked for Kerim.

Jamal Ryad glanced across the table, toying with the spoon in his cup of lemon tea. He caught Regan’s eye. “So it is possible?” he asked.

“To supply this ordnance? Deliver it to the locations?” Regan smiled as if he’d been asked to take on a simple task. “I just wish all my contracts were this simple, bubba.”