Don Pendleton - Close Quarters

The Phoenix Force warriors vacated the room and five minutes later Encizo emerged attired in a fresh change of clothes. The five men left the Embassy and headed straight to the garage where Russell had managed to acquire a staff van that would transport them to their original quarters outside the city. Every man remained vigilant during their twenty-minute commute, their eyes roving every street corner and building top for potential trouble. Each of them had resolved to be on high alert until they could figure out how the op had gotten blown so soon after they arrived.

As they climbed from the van at their destination, Hawkins whistled at the sweeping courtyard that doubled as entryway into the resort. “Nice digs!”

“It would appear they spared no expense this time,” James added.

The men proceeded inside, each toting the equipment bags salvaged from the shuttle bus. They practically had the place to themselves, true to Russell’s word. Encizo and Russell shared one suite, which they declared to be their makeshift operations center given Russell could set up the high-tech equipment there, while McCarter and James shared a second and Manning and Hawkins the last. Their suites adjoined the ops center on either side.

They would have liked to take a dip in the pool but this wasn’t a vacation and McCarter ordered them to get cleaned up. He did arrange to have dinner catered to the ops center; at least they could share a meal together while they discussed strategy. It was a feast to behold with garlic-roasted prime rib, boiled potatoes and salad. They also enjoyed bowls filled with a variety of tropical fruits, cinnamon pudding, coffee and a well-stocked bar compliments of the management.

When they finished, McCarter said, “All right, chums, we’ve got a lot to talk about. The first thing we should discuss is the latest news from the Farm. You already know about Ironman, the friends and their new mission. Apparently this Christopher Harland bloke confessed that the terrorists had coerced him into duping Russell here with that cockamamie story.”

“I hope they’re planning to lock that piece of crap behind bars,” Russell interjected.

“They’ll do whatever’s in the best interests of the U.S.,” Manning replied. “And it’s good protocol not to interrupt the team leader during the briefing.”

Russell tendered the expression of a puppy who’d just been chided, but he clammed up. Nobody could fault the guy. He’d operated with almost pure autonomy while working the embassy in Paraguay and wasn’t used to being on a team. According to the dossier Price had run down for McCarter, Russell had pretty much kept to himself. That type of introversion wasn’t unusual in people with high IQ levels and technical skills—Kurtzman being an exception to the rule—so McCarter couldn’t fault Russell too much for not observing Phoenix Force protocols.

“No worries, Russell,” McCarter said. “So now we’re certain that the terrorists operating here are probably Hezbollah. We’re also pretty sure that they’re being trained by a contingent of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps. What we don’t know is where, and that’s going to be our primary objective. Questions?”

Russell raised his hand and McCarter acknowledged him with a nod.

“I’m happy to help set up a technical station here for you, that we can easily tie into our B-Sat signal intelligence system, as well as allowing you to coordinate with whomever you work for,” Russell said. “But do we have any more intelligence we might be able to use to actually pinpoint these guys? I mean, I’m good, but I’m not clairvoyant.”

“That’s a valid question,” James added.

McCarter scratched his chin and considered it. “I think our first and best option is to get you tied into our systems first. Our man back in the States can guide you on that. Once we have that uplink established, he may be able to send us something you can use.”

“At least Harland’s betrayal explains how we were compromised so soon after being in country,” Encizo said.

“I’m not entirely sure that it does,” Manning countered.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we know they were tracking Harland but that doesn’t explain how they knew we were coming here. Harland didn’t even know that and I’m sure our counterparts in the States didn’t tell him.”

“Or if they did, they wouldn’t have given any specifics,” James observed.

“That’s a good point,” Encizo replied.

“Yeah, it’s obvious there’s a leak somewhere within the Embassy or among one of their contacts,” McCarter said. He looked at Russell and asked, “How many people knew the details of our mission here?”

“Three,” Russell replied. “The ambassador, his first assistant and me. We’re also the only ones who knew the details of Christopher Harland’s encounter with the local IRGC leadership.”

“Any of that end up in your computer systems?”

Harland shook his head. “Absolutely not. We have a pretty solid security system in place, but it would be insane to have put that kind of sensitive information into computers not hardened against intrusion by NSA standards.”

“Emails or phone calls from the others?” Hawkins asked.

“Nope.” Russell shook his head emphatically. “At least not to my knowledge. I personally monitor all electronic traffic in or out of there to make sure that any information that must be encrypted is encrypted. I didn’t note any references in the content to Harland or his transfer.”

“If he was being tracked electronically,” Manning said, “maybe they somehow used that to get their information.”

“Maybe, but that still doesn’t explain how they knew we were here, which is the real question at hand,” McCarter said. “How about the guy who drove us?”

Russell frowned. “I don’t think that’s feasible. He didn’t know the details of our route until after we’d left the Embassy. I can’t see how he would have had an opportunity to inform them far enough in advance to coordinate such an elaborate ambush. I mean, road bombs? That takes some real planning.”

“He makes an awfully good point,” Hawkins said.

“Well, we’re not going to find out sitting around here on our bloody arses chewing the fat about it,” McCarter said. “Mr. Gold will help you get your electronic systems into place as quickly as possible.”

Encizo and Russell looked at each other with mutual nods.

“The rest of us need to do a little recon.”

“Where?” Manning asked with a furrowed brow.

“The Peace Corps west of here,” McCarter replied. “Bring your waterproof bags and mosquito repellent, blokes. We’re taking a trip up the Rio Negro.”

* * *

IT WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN anybody’s first choice to navigate the winding, narrow road that snaked along the Rio Negro in the dead of night, but Phoenix Force had never been known for taking the easy route.

It bothered David McCarter being one man short but he understood all too well the importance of giving the body time to rest after trauma. Besides, Encizo wouldn’t lack things to do back at the hotel if things continued on the course they had to this point.

This mission could’ve been classified as anything but easy, and yet McCarter could only think about the challenges facing Phoenix Force. McCarter had told the Farm in no uncertain terms that he thought sending Able Team into the heart of Iran wasn’t the hottest idea. After all, this was the CIA’s screwup. Why couldn’t they clean up their own messes? Still, he knew orders were orders; they went where they had to and did what they had to. It was this kind of professional ethic that had guided the field teams of Stony Man all of these years, and McCarter wouldn’t have changed it for anything.