Eyes of the Hammer (The Green Beret Series)

by Bob Mayer

  "Fuck you, gringo. I know you won't kill me. You're one of those motherfucking drug enforcement scum. You'd better catch a flight for home before I kill you."

  Big words for a bleeding man, Riley thought. Playtime's over. Riley turned and strode across to the unconscious man. He placed the knife under the man's jaw, pointing up. "Hey!" he called to the big man. Waiting until the sicario had focused on him, Riley put the weight of his body on the handle and shoved the blade up through the unconscious man's jaw into his brain. The body twitched violently for a second and then was still.

  The big man's eyes bulged. "You're crazy, you fucker!"

  Riley pulled the knife back out and wiped it clean on the dead man's shirt. He cut the dead man's belt and relieved the body of the knife scabbard. The pungent odor of the corpse's released bowels filled the cafe.

  Riley stepped back in front of the big man. He stomped down, breaking the man's right hand. The sicario backed himself into a corner and put his arms up, right hand dangling, to defend himself.

  "Maria!" Riley hissed. He pulled out the gun and pointed it.

  The big man was frantic in his attempt to talk. "I don't know where she is. I swear!"

  Riley tried another tack. "What about the DEA man, Stevens?"

  "I don't know. I swear on my mother!"

  "Too bad. Sucks being shot by your own gun. Kind of adds embarrassment to the whole thing. Besides being dead, of course." Riley cocked the pistol.

  "Try the warehouse!"

  Riley uncocked the gun. "What warehouse?"

  "About two maybe three kilometers out of the city on the north mountain road—route 46. It says International Coffee Shipping and Receiving on the outside. It's a big brown building. You cannot miss it. It's off to the right, about a hundred meters from the road."

  Riley put the gun in his waistband and the sicario breathed a deep sigh of relief. Riley reached down and grabbed the top of the big man's head with one hand, placing his other forearm under the man's neck and tilting the head so he could look into his eyes. "One last question, my friend, and then I go. Do you know anything about the American soldier who was captured?"

  The man rolled his eyes, obviously confused. "American soldier? I know nothing of that. Please, I have told you everything."

  Riley nodded. He rotated his forearm upward from the elbow, levering the big man's jaw while keeping a tight grip with his other hand on the top of the man's head. The man's eyes showed a moment of panic before the crack of his neck caused them to lose their focus.

  Riley stood up to leave. To his surprise he found he was trembling.

  2:47 P.M.

  Riley slid the key into the lock and swung the door open. Westland looked up from the bed where she was reading one of the local papers. "What's the matter? You don't look so good."

  Riley shut the door and went over to the armchair, sinking down into its comfort. He drew the Colt Python out from under his shirt and tossed it on the bed. "You keep that."

  Westland picked up the revolver and checked the load. "Am I going to need it?"

  Riley shrugged. "Might. Might not. It's started."

  "What's started?"

  "The fun and games. I ran into two of Ring Man's thugs. They're the ones who donated the gun and this knife," he said, pulling up his shirt to show the scabbard.

  "Where are they now?"

  "They're dead."

  "Dead?"

  "Yeah, dead," Riley snapped. "I killed them."

  Westland stared at him, not quite sure what to say. "What happened?"

  Riley took a deep breath. He knew he needed to level with her, particularly since he had realized, while on the way back to the room, that he had made a mistake. A mistake that might lead the Ring Man's thugs right to this room.

  "Let me start from the beginning. Last night I went to the Embassy Cafe and told the man working there that I was looking for Maria. Since Maria obviously works for Ring Man, I figured this would get some sort of reaction from his people. Something that might help me find either her or Stevens.

  "The man told me to be there today at one. That's when and where I ran into the two goons. They thought I was DEA, and they were probably under orders to rough me up. I preempted them. In the process of that, and trying to get some information, I had to kill them both.

  "Shit!" Riley slammed his fist into the arm of the chair. "That's not the whole truth. I didn't have to kill them in the fight. I killed the first one to let the second know I meant business to make him talk. I killed the second one because I didn't want him going back and reporting what he'd told me. I got a lead on Maria and I need to follow it up tonight before they can react." Killing two men still didn't sit right with Riley, even though they would just as easily have killed him and had obviously planned on at least hurting him badly.

  Westland sensed his distress. She came over and put her hand on his shoulder. "Remember what you told me on the plane? This is war. We've got to be as hard as they are."

  "Yeah, I know. It's just that I'm not used to killing people in cold blood."

  "I hope you never get used to it. That's what separates you from them."

  Riley looked up at her. He appreciated her concern and support. "You know, Kate, I hope when this is all over, you and I have some time to get to know each other."

  She smiled and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "I hope so too."

  "I'll take you up to the Bronx and show you the part of the city you didn't see at NYU. I'll also introduce you to my Mom. I think you'd like each other."

  But, Riley thought, we don't have time to even talk much right now. "There's something else you should know. When I talked to the guy in the bar last night I made a mistake. I told him I had just flown in from New York and that I was with my wife. I gave him a false name but that still might be enough for Ring Man's people to get a line on us. That's one of the reasons I want you to have the gun."

  "Do you think we should move?"

  Riley shook his head. "If they're going to track us off the airline manifest, looking for a man and his wife from New York, they'll check all the hotels. This is as good as any. We'd have to use our cover names off the passports in order to check in anyplace else too. We just need to be more careful. We only have two more days."

  PENTAGON

  8:57 P.M.

  Pike's office in the Pentagon was buried in the basement, indicating that his position as head army staff officer for DCSOP-SO didn't rank very high. The best offices were on the main floor and on the outermost, or E-ring, of the building. Being in the basement near the heating plant wasn't the place for on-the-go officers.

  Pike took a break from making calls on his secure STU-III phone and contemplated the marvels of military bureaucracy for a few moments. Despite the fact that a little over twenty-four hours ago he had basically told the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff to go screw himself, here he was still sitting in his office and still wearing his star on each shoulder.

  Pike knew the reason for this wasn't that the chairman had had a change of heart. The reason was that nothing in the Pentagon, or the army for that matter, worked quickly and everything was compartmentalized. Somewhere over his head, Pike was sure, was a note from the chairman stating that one Col. Michael Pike (temporarily breveted to brigadier general) was to retire as soon as it could be expedited. Pike was just as sure that the memo made no mention of the events of the last several days.

  From his twenty-nine years of wrestling with military paperwork, Pike estimated he had about two weeks before that memo was translated into retirement orders. In the meantime, Pike was considered by his colleagues to be in the same position, and still breveted to Flag rank.

  Pike was utilizing this situation to his advantage. He had already found out more information than he'd thought he could. The mention that a general was on the phone personally and wanted some information often got results. Plus, Pike had an extensive network of old acquaintances throughout the military and intelligence communities who ow
ed him favors.

  He had already traced the orders placing Riley under the operational control of the Central Intelligence Agency. The CIA's Pentagon liaison had gotten the deputy chief of staff for intelligence, G-2, to hack off on the request and then had one of the G-1 (personnel) people hand carry it over to military personnel headquartered down the road in Alexandria to get the classified orders cut. Pike figured that the G-2 had owed the CIA representative a favor, or now one was owed the other way, but he was sure that no one in the army knew the reason for Riley's transfer of control.

  The orders themselves were classified and Pike had not been able to get a copy. He could well guess what was written on them, since he had seen those types of orders several times in his service with Delta Force. Basically they would say nothing about the reason for the transfer and would consist only of a start date, with the ending date left blank.

  Pike also had found out the present location of Ring Man. A few calls to old friends in the Defense Intelligence Agency had produced the information about the CIA's request for satellite surveillance on the Ring Man's villa. Pike had called in a big favor and had had copies of the imagery faxed to him over the secure line from Fort Meade, where the National Security Agency had its headquarters.

  Pike looked at the pictures laid out across his desk. If the CIA expected Riley to hit the Ring Man at that location, they were stupider than he had always thought they were. One man going against that place was suicide.

  Of course, Pike smiled to himself, it wasn't just one man. His inquiries with some retired Special Forces men working at the agency indicated that Westland was with Riley. Pike had been impressed with the young woman during the time they worked together. He hoped she got out of this mess all right.

  Pike had also watched the tap-dancing by the Department of Defense and Department of State on the issue of the bodies on the video, which had still not been released. Pike didn't relish the idea of seeing those young fellows he had commanded being paraded like meat. He'd seen too much death in his time. The fact that there were only four bodies wasn't lost on him either. Powers really might be alive.

  Putting all the pieces together told Pike one thing: Riley was in a bad situation and it wasn't likely to get any better. Pike wasn't sure what he could do to help, but he knew he had to try. He took out a notepad and started war-gaming options.

  RING MAN'S VILLA

  3:30 P.M.

  Ponte took the phone call about Pablo's and his partner's deaths. The news was disturbing, not because two of their men had been killed but because the identity of the killer was unknown. The kid tending the bar had given a poor description of the man Pablo and his sidekick had met. It might or might not be the American who had approached the worker the previous night.

  Ponte decided it was time to bring the boss up to speed. He knocked on the door of the office adjacent to his.

  "Come in."

  Ponte entered and walked over to the Ring Man, who was talking on the phone to the man who was leading their war in Medellin against what remained of Suarez's operation. The Ring Man's latest attraction, a slight girl of fifteen, was sitting on the corner of the desk while the Ring Man's free hand absently fondled her.

  Ponte waited nervously until the conversation was over. The Ring Man never liked bad news, and the report about Pablo wasn't exactly the best.

  Ring Man hung up and turned to his aide with a small smile on his face. At least it looked like he was in a good mood to start with. "We are doing well in Medellin. Many of Suarez's people are seeing the light and switching over. I think in another week we will have firm control there."

  The Ring Man rubbed his hands together, oblivious of Ponte's discomfort. "Soon I will be able to focus on the government and the Ramirezes. Have you heard any word from Ariel in Cartagena? Will he be able to get to the Ramirezes?"

  Ponte shook his head. "He has not called back yet. I talked to him this morning, and he said he had some ideas. He was going to see how feasible they were this afternoon. We should hear something tonight."

  Ring Man nodded. "Good. Ariel is a good man even though he is a foreigner. What would we do without our Israeli friends, eh? They teach us how to kill so much better." Ring Man laughed and pulled the girl onto his lap.

  Ponte agreed that the handful of former Israeli military men who were in Colombia advising the various gangs were a valuable asset. The Israeli government formally denied their presence and privately abhorred the fact that these men were there. But there were always a certain number of military men, no matter what the nationality, who were willing to sell their skills to the highest bidder.

  Ariel had been a paratroop commander in the Israeli Army. In coming to Colombia he'd given up his right to go back to Israel, but he had exchanged his citizenship for money and the opportunity to exercise his "talents." The fact that Ring Man trusted him with the war against the Ramirezes spoke volumes about his ability.

  Ponte knew that if the Ring Man grew any more fond of the Israeli, Ariel might well end up sitting in Ponte's office next to the Ring Man. That did little to dispel the unease Ponte felt about having to relay the news about Pablo.

  "What else is new, my friend? Anything I need to know about?"

  Ponte nodded. "There is a strange American here in Bogota. He's been asking questions about Maria."

  Ring Man shrugged. "Kill him."

  Ponte licked his lips. "I sent Pablo to take care of him this afternoon."

  "Good. Then we don't have to worry about the strange American anymore."

  "Pablo is dead."

  The Ring Man's humor vanished and he abruptly stood up, letting the girl fall off his lap. "The American killed him?"

  "I'm not sure."

  "What the hell do you mean you're not sure?" the Ring Man yelled.

  Ponte backed up slightly. "I mean, I think it was the American. Pablo went to the Embassy Cafe to meet the American. There was a man there. Apparently they fought and Pablo was killed."

  "You have no witnesses?"

  "The bar-boy saw the man, but his description is not good enough to tell if it was the American. The American who asked about Maria looked like a Latino and was short. That is the same description of the man who killed Pablo. Since the description is the same and the American was supposed to be there at that time and place, I think it must have been him."

  The Ring Man sat back down, his anger changing to thoughtfulness. "Was Pablo alone?"

  Ponte sighed. He'd hoped he could keep the second man out of it. "No. He took one man with him. He was killed also."

  The Ring Man raised an eyebrow. "This American killed Pablo and another man? How were they killed?"

  "The backup had a knife shoved into his jaw going up into the brain. Pablo's neck was broken. It looks like Pablo was in a pretty bad fight before he was killed, so maybe he hurt the American."

  The Ring Man looked even more impressed. He'd expected his men had been shot. But whoever this stranger was, he used his hands well, taking out two armed men.

  The Ring Man pulled the girl back onto his lap and pondered the information. The whole thing was strange. The Americans had always been reluctant to use force. In fact, the Ring Man despised the American people as a whole for their failure to use the power they had. The DEA had always been a joke in Colombia. Any aggressive agent was usually transferred back to the United States. They were more concerned with image than with results.

  Ring Man stared straight ahead. His eyes grew vacant and Ponte stirred uncomfortably. That meant the Ring Man was plotting. Ponte waited for almost five minutes while the Ring Man's internal computer worked. Finally his boss's eyes refocused.

  "I don't think this American was DEA. This isn't their style. What about CIA?"

  Ponte shook his head. "I have had no reports on any new actions by the CIA. It's possible, though."

  "Whoever this man is, he wants Maria. That means he probably knows about the connection between Maria and Stevens. Is he trying to find Stevens?" R
ing Man didn't wait for an answer as a new thought struck him. "He might be after the American we captured. They must know by now that there were only four bodies on the video. So maybe they figure there is one left alive."

  Ponte shook his head. "But just one man? Wouldn't they be sending more down here if that's what they are after?"

  Ring Man didn't know. "The Americans are funny people. They do strange things. Maybe this man is just here to get information. Whatever the case, I want the American prisoner moved. Bring him here. They will never be able to get at him here."

  "What about Maria?"

  "She knows nothing about the American prisoner. She's all right where she is. Warn her, though, to be careful."

  "What should I do about the American in the city?"

  "Find him and kill him."

  PENTAGON

  3:50 P.M.

  Pike had done as much as he could over the phone. It was time now to do some face-to-face talking and get the wheels moving. He took the elevator to the first floor and strode to the outer corridor. The offices here had become familiar to him over the past week during his mission coordination. Right now Pike was going to find out how far down the chairman had passed word of the termination of the Hammer missions and Pike's own loss of stature.

  He turned in under a sign that read DCSOP-SO and pulled up in front of the secretary who guarded the inner sanctum. "Is your boss busy, Jean?"

  The secretary smiled at Pike. "Let me buzz him, Mike."

  Pike licked his lips as he waited. Throughout the Hammer missions he'd been the one coordinating all the various parts. The DCSOP-SO, Lieutenant General Linders, had been one of his key points of contact, in charge of all support from the Special Operations Forces of the different services. The only time, as far as Pike knew, that Linders had had direct contact with Macksey was the initiating phone call and his attendance at the first briefback. All other contact had been through Pike.

  "The general says go in, Mike." Pike nodded his thanks and entered.