War Tactic

by Don Pendleton

“They?” McCarter prompted.

  “My bosses at Blackstar. Jay Fitzpatrick, for one. A few men who report to him. It’s what we do.”

  “How were we to be baited?”

  “Management has some kind of arrangement with the pirates who operate locally. I guess word was handed down to one of those crews that we were setting a trap, and that one of their number should put out the word he was looking to sell intel on the pirate operations here. Once that guy was in position, we were sent in to take him out and make it look like his fellow pirates were sending a message about squealing. Code of silence among pirates, all that crap. So we eliminated everyone in the house and painted the place to make it look like his buddies had done it.”

  “Then you just had to wait for us to blunder into your little trap,” said McCarter.

  “Yeah,” said Alan. “They told us the squad we were supposed to take out would respond to the bait. Whoever did it, whether it was the Filipinos or somebody else, was our target. That’s all I know. There’s nothing else I can tell you.”

  “Good to know you’re particular about who you murder,” said McCarter.

  “I was just doing my job, man.”

  “So you were present when the fake informant was murdered?”

  “I… Yeah. Yeah, I was.”

  “And you killed others in the house, too.”

  Alan realized his mistake then. He opened his mouth, tried to speak and stopped. Finally he said, “I was just doing my job.”

  “And I’m just doing mine,” McCarter said. “The only difference is, I’m not a murderer.” He holstered his knife, drew his pistol again and waved Manning out of the way. Manning frowned but nodded and then stepped aside.

  “I have rights!” Alan said again.

  “So did the people you killed,” McCarter retorted.

  Desperate, Alan lunged forward and tried to knock the pistol from McCarter’s hand.

  Calmly, McCarter avoided the frantic attempt to disarm him. He pistol-whipped him and then turned. “Come on, lads. Let’s get out of here. Leave them. They’ll live or die. If they live, it’s more than that murdering bastard deserves, and then the Filipino authorities will pick him up.”

  “I’ll phone it in anonymously,” said Gary, putting his secure phone to his ear.

  “Good man,” said McCarter.

  Phoenix Force hit the street again, crouched and ready. They were not, however, prepared for what greeted them. A massive force of Blackstar troops was marching down the end of the road. The Phoenix Force leader had no way to be sure, but he was pretty certain that might be the total number of troops Blackstar had in the area. They were going for broke.

  There was no way Phoenix Force could fight them all. There were far too many.

  “Those two must have emergency transponders, some kind of panic switch we didn’t notice when we took them down,” Encizo said.

  “Could be in the helmets,” James ventured. “Some kind of ‘I’ve fallen and I can’t get up’ transmitter. They’re coming right for us.”

  “Lads,” McCarter warned. “We had better try to make a run for it.”

  “We’ll never make it,” Manning noted.

  Static broke through the transceiver link and McCarter cocked his head. “What was that?”

  “Did you hear…Jack?” Encizo asked him.

  “I said,” Grimaldi repeated, “you guys realize you can track each other through your sat phones, right?”

  “Uh, yeah?” James said.

  “Well, so can I,” Grimaldi said.

  The massive Sikorsky roared overhead, putting its mass between where Phoenix Force was crouched and the knot of Blackstar shooters. As the Sikorsky passed by, McCarter recognized Filipino military officers manning the guns and grenade launcher. One of those was Lieutenant Ocampo, his left arm in a sling, his right arm manning the launcher.

  “Lieutenant Ocampo,” Grimaldi continued, “wants you to know that he and his men don’t share his government’s anxiety about our presence. He would like to further inform you that he is grateful for the chance to pay you back for saving his life.”

  McCarter started to reply. Whatever he might have said was cut off in the din as the Sikorsky’s weapons opened up. The machine guns blazed, the grenade launcher puffed smoking death and the street full of Blackstar men became a bloody scene out of a horror movie. It took several minutes for the shooting and the screaming to stop. At least one of the Blackstar men tried to throw a grenade, only to have the weapon explode in the midst of his fellows. By the time the dust and debris from that explosion cleared, the Blackstar forces were so many corpses in the middle of the bullet-scarred street.

  “When this is over,” James said, “I’m buying Lieutenant Ocampo a beer.”

  “Get in line, mate,” McCarter said.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Atlanta, Georgia

  “Would you mind telling me what the hell is going on?” Fitzpatrick demanded, throwing open the door to Rhemsen’s office. This plant in Atlanta was one the largest and the most secure of RhemCorp’s holdings, hidden behind multiple layers of security. For one thing, the property bore no RhemCorp branding. It was instead tucked away in an industrial park area and labeled with the names of half a dozen nondescript holding companies. This helped disguise the true size of the facility while discouraging potential onlookers.

  The Atlanta plant was also the site Rhemsen used to hide all of his most-off-the-book projects. Whether it was the true size of the weapons inventories he was producing, or the production of other black-ops munitions that he was not authorized to build, the laundry list of incriminating evidence here was enough to make even Fitzpatrick nervous. Rhemsen had explained, for his benefit, the many safeguards, legal and financial, that protected the facility from discovery, both with regard to ownership and relative to the arms manufactured here. These reassurances, however, meant little to him right now.

  “You have a lot of nerve barging in here right now,” said Rhemsen. He was sitting behind his desk. There was a hand mirror on the desk, and Fitzpatrick knew what that meant. The son of a bitch had been sitting there staring at himself close up, examining every pore and wrinkle, probably obsessing about his next facelift. How any man could be so vain and not magically become a woman was a question Fitzpatrick would never be able to answer.

  “I know you didn’t just give me attitude,” Fitzpatrick said. He felt his face grow hot. Not for the first time, he considered wrapping his big hands around Rhemsen’s neck and seeing just how much pressure it would take to make the man’s eyes bulge out of their sockets. “Maybe you’d like to explain just why you think that’s okay, with this company falling down around our ears and my men dying like it’s free!”

  “You’ve never struck me as particularly solicitous of the health of your troops,” Rhemsen commented.

  “Stop evading my damned question, Harold!” Fitzpatrick took a step forward and put his big hands on top of Rhemsen’s desk. He was going to do it this time. He was going to reach across that desk, grab Harold Rhemsen by the neck and beat him unconscious.

  Rhemsen glared back. “You triggered the charges prematurely,” he said. He pointed at Fitzpatrick as he did, punctuating each word with a jab of his finger. “The explosion killed Lao. We were lucky to get away.”

  “Why should I give a damn about Lao?” Fitzpatrick countered. “You said yourself he was just a Chinese bag man. We don’t owe him anything and, honestly, I would think you, of all people, would understand that we’re better off with him dead. He knew things, Harold. Lao was on the inside of our operations here, thanks to the information you had to share with him to get him to invest. He obviously wasn’t going to make the chopper, not with armed government agents breathing down our necks. Hell, we were lucky to make it aboard ourselves. If I hadn’t triggered those charges to cover our escape, there might not have been an escape at all. Or do you want to spend your life in some white-collar prison, doing other people’s laundry in a bright orange ‘tr
ustee’ vest?”

  “Lao was a very important person,” said Rhemsen.

  “That’s not what you told me.”

  “Certain details are mine to keep,” Rhemsen insisted. He slumped back into his chair.

  Something about the action made Fitzpatrick feel silly, looming over him as he was. He raised his hands from the desk and stood there, unsure what to do with his arms. Finally he crossed them over his chest. “I get that,” he said. “I really do. But I can’t prioritize things like collateral damage if you don’t tell me what I need to know. Just how bad is it?”

  Rhemsen sighed. “No, you’re right. I should have been more forthcoming. It’s just that Lao… He was so highly placed with the Chinese government and its military that I could not see him falling. His death can be blamed on the Americans easily enough. The Chinese need not ever know the exact circumstances. I have made them aware that the United States government is investigating.”

  “I never liked relying on their money, Harold,” said Fitzpatrick. “Dangerous business, getting in bed with Communist dictators.”

  “We have more pressing concerns,” said Rhemsen, sitting forward. “With the obliteration of the factory in Charleston, the United States will waste no time investigating. For the time being, we are safe at this location. There are enough layers of disguise to prevent even their intelligence community from finding us. That factory, with the exception of a few outlying holdings, was the major center of production for RhemCorp, as far as they know. Maintaining this secret factory in parallel was always essential to our strategy, given how frequently the Department of Defense insisted on conducting inspections. Now the ruse will shield us long enough for us to get out of the country.”

  “I’m not ready to do that.”

  “You had better become ready,” Rhemsen said. “Jason, I realize that the timetable has been significantly accelerated. But did you not just speak to me about your exit strategy? I know you have this thought out.”

  “I understand what you’re trying to do even less now,” Fitzpatrick complained. “How does what you’ve done so far help us? My men in Mindoro were ground up and spat out, Harold. Do you have any idea how many troops I lost? I might as well have lined them up and shot them all myself!”

  “That is regrettable,” Rhemsen said. “I had no way of knowing that the assets the United States would employ to the South China Sea would be so effective. I genuinely believed your men were up to the task. I still believe it. We simply have to find the right way.”

  “Your operation is blown,” Fitzpatrick stated. “Whatever you think you’re accomplishing out there…it doesn’t matter. I’m pulling my men out.”

  “No,” Rhemsen said. “Don’t do that. I need Blackstar’s support. I still have multiple pirate crews working to my directions in the area. I’m going to need Blackstar’s support for the next leg of the operation.”

  “Maybe it’s time you explained to me exactly what you’re doing, then, Harold.”

  Rhemsen took a deep breath. “Very well. Very well, I will do so. Jason, the United States is a nation in decline. It is deep in debt. Its military is foundering. Its sway on the world stage is diminishing. You understand this, yes? You see it, too?”

  “So what if I do?”

  “Men of vision, men who can see what is coming and respond to it beforehand, are men who succeed. They are the men who become rich. The biggest arms market in the world is the nation with the largest conventional fighting force. That nation is China, and I intend to see to it they are well supplied. But an open war with China is years away. Some say a few, some say many. I wish to make money right now.”

  “What are you getting at?” Fitzpatrick asked.

  Rhemsen steepled his fingers as he leaned back in his chair. “The world must fear China, Jason. I am using the pirate crews to create the impression that China is expanding its territory in the South China Sea by force. The plan has been carefully crafted for maximum effect. It is based on everything from the stock market to major trade routes to the cable news cycle. I have devised a method for achieving maximum impact from the minimum required number of raids and strikes.”

  “To do what?” Fitzpatrick demanded. “So far all I can see is you bringing down the ceiling on our heads. We’re blown in the US.”

  “I thought I said as much,” Rhemsen said. “We will have to leave the United States, yes. But I have been arranging with Lao to establish manufacturing sites in China. It was for that reason that I met with him so often. He was more than just an investor. He had the political clout to get the factories approved, the workers detailed, the funds allocated. He has served his purpose. The factories have already been started.”

  “But what is the point, Harold? Why make the world ‘fear China’ if what you want is to get into bed with them?”

  “I am building the market, Jason,” Rhemsen said. “A world that fears China’s territorial designs will react accordingly by deploying more military might against her. As tensions rise, the world’s governments may even begin to discuss sanctions. This will, in turn, prompt the Chinese to invest even more heavily in their military…and in an armed space program, something Lao and I were discussing at length. RhemCorp products will make all that possible. We will arm China for defense against these nations, even as we establish to those antagonists that China is a threat and must be menaced. Thus the market will feed on itself, and we will profit.”

  “Do the Chinese know?”

  “Of course not,” said Rhemsen. “They would have me killed immediately if they had any idea. But they don’t. That is why I used the pirates to accomplish the necessary physical tasks. The pirate crews not only give me the means, but shield me from discovery. None of them knows directly about the other. Not a single one of those men knows who has hired him, either. I have conducted all of the operations through paid intermediaries. When I speak to them directly, I do so by satellite phone. It is a foolproof plan.”

  “But we’re killing ourselves in the States,” Fitzpatrick said. “We can’t come back here. Once the Feds start looking into our operations, we’d be lucky if they just put us in prison. This is death-penalty stuff, Harold. Treason.”

  “Of course it is,” Rhemsen agreed. “But as I’ve said, the United States is not where the money is. It is a calculated burning of a bridge we won’t need.”

  “I don’t like it,” Fitzpatrick said.

  “I anticipated this,” Rhemsen said. “And now, Jason, I am going to reward you for all your hard work.”

  Rhemsen rose and went to the gold-framed oil painting on the wall behind his desk. The painting was of Rhemsen himself, of course, but it was a younger Rhemsen, with a face not contorted into a plastic death mask. As Fitzpatrick watched, Rhemsen slid the painting aside to reveal an electronic wall safe. He placed his palm against the reader and waited while the safe door popped open. Then he reached in and removed a briefcase. This he placed on his desk. From the upper right drawer of his desk, he took out a leather-bound journal.

  “What’s all that?” asked Fitzpatrick.

  “This,” said Rhemsen, opening the briefcase to face him, “is one million dollars.” He spun the briefcase so that Fitzpatrick could see its contents. The Blackstar commander’s jaw dropped. “This is your payment, Jason. This will help finance your new life somewhere other than the United States, and reward you for all the work you have done making RhemCorp’s foreign empire possible. You understand now, yes?”

  “China,” Fitzpatrick said. “It was either that or Russia, wasn’t it?”

  “Exactly,” Rhemsen said. “The only two industrial nations with enough military might that our operations would be shielded from United States’ reprisals. But Russia, for all its rumblings of once again becoming a major military power, thanks to their leadership’s saber-rattling, still clings to too much baggage from its Soviet days. The Russian mafiya controls a great deal of the commerce there. They are a…cooperative entity, responsive to bribes and other pr
essures, but very unpredictable. Prone to violence. Their involvement in the krokodil drug trade alone is enough to give me pause.”

  “The Chinese are just as corrupt. It’s just political.”

  “So it is,” Rhemsen said. “But that means there is a single, strong, controlling entity whose favor we must court. Having secured this, we are well prepared to move forward. So I selected China because it is where the money is…and it has the power to protect us from the Americans’ wrath. Once established in China, I will not require the use of Blackstar’s troops any longer. I will have the Chinese military to protect my holdings, and they will be grateful to have me.”

  “So you’re cutting me loose?” Fitzpatrick asked.

  “I am setting you free,” Rhemsen said. “I know you, Jason. You would not be happy in China. You will want to find a country more suited to your…recreational tastes, yes? And now I shall see to it you have the finances to do so. With this and the money I know you already possess, you should be well equipped for a comfortable retirement. That sandy beach full of pretty, willing women, perhaps?”

  “But…why?” Fitzpatrick asked.

  “Why treat you with such kindness?” Rhemsen almost managed a smile through that paralyzed plastic face of his. “Do you think me so incapable of appreciation? Of loyalty? But…no, I must be honest. I have one request, one condition.” He handed Fitzpatrick the journal.

  “What’s this?”

  “That is my personal journal, Jason,” Rhemsen said. “Where you are going, you will be beyond the reach of the Chinese. I will be, as you’ve said, in bed with them. While I believe the relationship will be a mutually beneficial one, I did not get where I am today by being stupid. That journal details everything I’ve done and, if the information were ever released, it would shame the Chinese. It would make them look very foolish indeed. That is information they will not want floating around the internet or spoken of in government meetings and political rallies. I therefore give it to you. Keep the journal somewhere safe, tucked away in some safe-deposit box somewhere with your cash. All I ask is that if China ever decides I have outlived my usefulness and ‘disappears’ me, you send the journal to the press.”