The Powers That Be r5-1

by Cliff Ryder

  Jonas frowned. “That would be interesting. I don’t think the mujahideen really cared where these went. They were just happy to receive payment for them once these items were no longer needed.”

  Both of the men looked up at Jonas. “Is that where these came from?” Castilo asked.

  Jonas spread his hands. “I’m afraid I cannot say anything more. If a nation is interested in purchasing these, then I’m sure something could be worked out. However, I didn’t know you were representing a country at this time.”

  Castilo straightened from where he had leaned over to get a better look at the missile system. “I do represent a country, even if it does not know that yet. If we were to assume that I could put you in touch with a buyer, what would the total cost be?”

  “Due to their proven effectiveness and relative scarcity, I would have to charge a serious buyer a quarter of a million dollars for each set, consisting of the weapon system and five missile rounds.”

  Castilo looked at Theodore and nodded at the double doors. The bodyguard slipped out the entryway, standing outside as if guarding access to the room. “I think I’ll have that drink now, if you please.”

  “Of course.” Jonas crossed to the bar. “Rémy Martin?”

  Rafael waved a hand in assent, his gaze not straying from the boxed Stinger launcher. Jonas poured two snifters of the cognac. He approached the other man slowly, holding out the crystal snifter. “Join me?”

  Castilo nodded, accepting the glass and walking over to a set of armchairs arranged around a small low table in the corner. He sat down and swirled his drink, sniffed apprecia-tively, then took a slow swallow.

  Jonas sat back and did the same, letting the silence draw out. There was nothing to be gained by trying to force the conversation—if there was one thing Jonas knew about the other man, it was that he would talk when he was ready. It really is a shame what has to happen here, he thought. It is rare enough to find another person to enjoy a companionable silence with in the first place. However, now that he might be on the cusp of finally getting what he was here for, he wasn’t about to jeopardize that for anything.

  The two men sat across from each other for several minutes in relaxed silence. Finally Castilo set his glass on the table and regarded Jonas. “You are one of the most interesting people I have met in a long time, Mr. Heinemann.”

  “Oh?”

  “As I’m sure you have done research on me, I have also looked further into your background. You have a habit of preferring to support certain, shall we say, underdogs in areas around the world, particularly those struggling against Marxist regimes. The United Nicaraguan Opposition and UNITA in Angola are just two examples of your more interesting dealings.”

  Jonas dropped his gaze to the table, as if considering his reply. “Having suffered under a dictatorship for much of my life in my homeland, I do not wish to see such regimes strangle men and women who deserve better. However, you should keep in mind that I was also well compensated for each of those transactions. Profit is still a powerful motiva-tor, and if I can help in a region, even better.”

  “Of course. Nowadays, there are few such windmills to tilt at anymore. China is far too large for such a tactic, and hopefully it is crumbling under its own population’s desire for capitalist reforms, even as the government clings to its outmoded Communist tenets. An impossible dilemma, in my opinion, which will eventually bring about its downfall.”

  Castilo rose and paced around the room. “That leaves only one other true Communist bastion in the Western Hemisphere.”

  “Cuba,” Jonas said quietly.

  “One that has subjugated millions of people over the last half century, killing hundreds of thousands, imprisoning tens of thousands more and reducing what was once the jewel of the Caribbean to a gaudy, crumbling shell of its former glory.”

  “You’ll have to excuse my imperfect grasp of history, but I assume you’re not talking about Batista.” Jonas knew where Castilo was going, but figured it couldn’t hurt to get him a bit more righteously riled.

  “God knows that man was as bad as Castro—only the U.S. ever saw it differently. But no, the revolution simply replaced one dictator with another. The Castros and Guevara promised freedom, then gradually took it and much more away from the people.”

  Jonas sipped his cognac before replying. “And he has been remarkably adept at preventing change, even holding off the U.S. government for all this time.”

  Castilo snorted. “The Washington bureaucrats have no idea how to handle a true zealot. They are more comfortable getting other groups to do their dirty work—like the Contras—with terrible results for both sides. No, the time for diplomacy—

  from the U.S., Europe or elsewhere—has passed. There is only one course of action that can free the embattled people of Cuba.” He turned to stare at Jonas. “It is time for the people of Cuba to rise up and reclaim their country. And if that requires the ultimate action to be taken, then so be it.”

  “Who is this guy?”

  Judy had joined the small group in the virtual ops room, holding a mug of steaming tea, in VR as in real life. Kate hid her smile at the sight—like a lot of the baby-boomer generation who’d had to accept instead of grow up with the computer revolution, Judy preferred to have the simulated world mimic her real one as much as possible. Kate would never find her flying without normal, mechanical assistance or deep diving without a pressurized suit, when those VR programs eventually became available. As for Kate, well, she’d be more inclined to try one or more of those things—just for fun.

  “I assume you mean besides the obvious answer.” The two women watched Jonas talking with Rafael Castilo on the main screen. The businessman leaned over to examine the Stinger missile launcher in its case, while his bodyguard opened a smaller metal case on the floor.

  Judy’s elegant eyebrow rose. “Naturally. What I meant was that the boys have been diving into his background for the past few hours. We found the usual things, memberships in business organizations, the chamber of commerce and a long record of aboveboard, large donations to nonviolent organizations like the Cuban American National Foundation and the International Committee for Democracy in Cuba.

  But there has been no hint of him doing anything this rash.”

  “Perhaps he got tired of the diplomatic way of doing things.” Oddly, Kate felt she could almost empathize with him. After all, that was part of the reason she had left the CIA, when she had discovered that the once proud counterintelligence and espionage agency had turned into a tech-heavy bureaucracy, with layers of political and territorial minefields to navigate if anything concrete was to be accomplished. And if an officer needed to work with another federal agency, well, good luck. However, that resignation was what had put her on the track for Room 59, where she could accomplish the necessary things that needed doing. Like remove a dictator?

  So far, their operatives had never been called upon to do anything like that. They had destroyed more than one nascent revolution before it could challenge its country’s government, but they had not been assigned to remove a sitting dictator—yet. But if that scenario ever arose, Kate knew she wouldn’t hesitate to organize just such a mission. God knew there were plenty of people around the world who could be helped by the thirty-cent solution.

  That’s probably what Castilo thinks, as well, she thought.

  Perhaps he wants to be hailed as the liberator of Cuba—to have succeeded where so many others have failed for so long. It’s got to be tempting—but tempting enough to risk everything he’s built? Kate mulled that over while she listened to Judy’s assessment.

  “We’d be able to indict him on conspiracy to transport and sell stolen U.S. government property, treason and perhaps even conspiracy to commit murder. Once the Justice Department started digging, I’m sure they could link him to whichever PMC he’s using.”

  “Excuse me, ma’am, but it appears that this Theodore guy is already connected to a private military company.”

&n
bsp; Now Kate’s eyebrows raised. “The bodyguard? What’ve you got?”

  El Supremo, his eyes red-rimmed yet bright from almost twenty-four straight hours of creating, sifting and collating data to parcel out to various personnel for analysis, brought up a screen with a picture of the man’s face while information scrolled past. “He’s a member of a company called Threat Evaluation And Response, or TEAR, Inc. They’re headquartered in England, with branch offices on every continent. Been around for about a decade—one of the old guard, apparently.”

  “Do they have the capability to field a force large enough to invade Cuba?” Kate asked.

  “See for yourself.” The hacker brought up another screen that appeared to be the home page for the company. Prominently displayed among cited assets was the ability to field a brigade-size force anywhere in the world in seventy-two hours.

  Kate’s eyebrows stayed up. “Really? And the way they do that is by…?”

  “According to news reports from several Third World countries they’ve visited, they either subcontract to local talent or bring in mercs from nearby areas and set them loose.

  Naturally, they’ve also been accused of profiteering, involvement in black markets and crimes against civilians,” El Supremo reported.

  “Naturally.” Judy set her cup down. “It is amazing what can be accomplished—or destroyed—if enough money is waved around.”

  Kate noticed Judy didn’t comment on the location of the company’s headquarters. “So, what would happen if a few thousand ill-trained mercenaries—excuse me, private military contractors—took over an entire island?”

  Judy mulled it over. “They wouldn’t be able to fend off its armed forces alone—they’d need help from someone on the inside. Maybe from the military itself. Even so, there would be plenty of assets to seize, equipment both civilian and military. Wherever the target is, it would be a free-for-all, with civilians in the middle as a civil war broke out between loyalists and other factions.”

  “And it appears this operation is almost ready to begin, if the intel is correct. I’d like to put out some feelers on Web chatter, see if anyone’s been tapped to fill this contract of theirs. Given their target, a force that large won’t be easy to hide.”

  “That sounds good, Judy. Let me know what you come up with,” Kate said.

  “Ma’am, you might want to listen to this.” NiteMaster drew their attention back to the big screen, where Castilo stood over Jonas. “He’s talking about another revolution in Cuba.”

  “Thanks.” Kate stared at the screen, watching the two men converse, and hearing intimations of a plot unfold that was every bit as bad as she feared.

  Jonas raised his snifter to his lips and drank, holding the liquor in his mouth for a moment while he absorbed the import of Castilo’s words. At length he swallowed and set the glass down. “That is an ambitious undertaking. The other thing Castro is known for is his incredible longevity.”

  “Yes, yes, I’ve heard it all, the foolish plans by the CIA, the other nations taking their shots. All too complicated, too circumspect. Poisoning his milkshake, for god’s sake! No, it must be simple, uncomplicated and direct.” Castilo returned to his seat and plopped down into it, an expression of savage glee lighting up his face. “Everything is falling into place, and soon the people of Cuba will have the chance to take their destiny back into their own hands. And you, my friend, have given us an important weapon in the fight against that disgust-ing Communist regime.” He lifted his glass. “To a free Cuba!”

  Jonas toasted with him, his mind racing, particularly about how to elicit the key information about the plan without raising suspicion. “It would truly be a glorious day to see the sun rise over a free Cuba, yet I must confess that I have my doubts that such a massive undertaking can be accomplished, even with help from the inside. It just all sounds too good to be true.”

  Castilo polished off his cognac and leaned back, suddenly expansive. “I’ll tell you what—while I cannot go into details, of course, I can deliver proof of what I have said tonight, so you may see that this is real. I can also arrange for all of these to be taken off your hands. However, the delivery would have to be this evening. I know that is short notice, but I hope that is acceptable?”

  Jonas laughed. “You seem to presume that I would be sailing around with the rest of this package on my ship, where it might be found by any inspecting Coast Guard vessel.”

  “It might, were you within the coastal waters of the U.S.

  I assume nothing, but am only letting you know what your potential customer will want. If that is a problem, then perhaps we should reconsider the entire deal.”

  “No, no.” Jonas cut him off, trying to appear eager without seeming to, the very model of a businessman who wanted to unload his illegal inventory as quickly as possible.

  “It just might be a little complicated to do this so fast, that’s all. Depending on when they wish to pick up the items, I think we can work something out. However, I must insist that the client bring the complete payment with them. I will accept U.S. dollars, British pounds, Euros or diamonds, the quality of which I will verify myself.”

  Castilo rose and extended his hand. “Then we have a deal.

  I will notify the buyers, who will be in touch with you to arrange transfer and payment.”

  “Excellent. I look forward to consummating our arrangement. And once your homeland is free, I hope we can do more business in the future.”

  “Perhaps. My people will be in touch. This has been a very pleasurable evening, Ferdinand.”

  Jonas rose with him. “For me, as well. Come, I’ll walk out with you to the aft deck.” He led Castilo through the rear of the ship to where the powerboat was waiting, Theodore falling in behind him like a silent 250-pound wraith. The two deckhands made the launch ready, and Jonas watched them board, knowing he had only gotten part of the story. As the Tiara pushed away from the yacht, he raised a hand in fare-well, and was answered by a similar wave from Castilo.

  Theodore stood with his arms crossed, staring at Jonas. The pleasure boat accelerated into the night, fading to a small speck in the darkness.

  “So, how was your meeting with the boys?” Jonas turned to see Karen, dressed in slacks and a black brushed-silk blouse, leaning against the railing.

  “His clients want all of the Stingers. They’ll be calling a bit later to set up delivery. Tonight.”

  “Kind of in a hurry, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, but from what little Rafael told me, the operation is about to start. Who knows, perhaps these are the last things they needed to ensure they’d be able to gain a foot-hold on the island. There’s something we’re missing, though. Rafael thinks there won’t be much of a problem bringing freedom to the huddled masses simply hanging around waiting to be liberated. Sounds like he’s got a bad case of Iraqitis.”

  “You’re phoning in, right?” Karen asked.

  Jonas glanced down at his phone. “Funny, I’d have thought Kate would have called by—” An orchestral version of the German national anthem rang out. “I spoke too soon.

  Have you swept the boat?”

  Karen nodded. “The moment they left. Nothing showed up—they’re very confident—or just sloppy.”

  He flipped the phone open and put it on the table as Kate’s face appeared on-screen. “Good evening, Kate.”

  “Well, we got halfway there. He wanted to tell you about the grand scheme, didn’t he?”

  “I think he found me a kindred spirit, and the dose of Oxystim in his wineglass didn’t hurt any, either.” Although a real truth serum still hadn’t been developed, DARPA sci-entists had created the next-best thing—a drug that stimulated the brain’s production of oxytocin, a hormone neurotransmit-ter that increased feeling of trust between the subject and anyone they interacted with. It wasn’t foolproof, but studies had shown a significant increase in the quality of information gathered from people under its influence. The mess crew had been assigned to coat the interior
of Castilo’s glass with it before dinner, and from what Jonas had seen, they had pulled it off flawlessly. “I have to admire his resolve to keep it to himself. I think stronger measures will be necessary to get the details.”

  “Understood. So the PMC wants to pick up the cargo tonight?”

  Jonas nodded. “They’re sure in a hurry.”

  “There’s something you should know about the bodyguard.” Kate filled him in on Theodore’s relationship with TEAR.

  “That’s very interesting. Now we know who’s brokering this deal. I wonder if Rafael is aware of Theodore’s connection, or if his bodyguard just dropped the name of the PMC

  to be helpful. Either way, it looks like we’ll have some potentially hostile visitors later this evening.”

  His second phone rang, and Jonas picked it up. “Hold on, Kate, I think this is them.”

  “Take it, we’ll be monitoring on this end.”

  He put the phone to his cheek, noting that there was no transmitted picture on his screen. “Hello?”

  “We are the party that is interested in the equipment you have for sale. We were referred to you by a mutual friend.”

  “If this is true, then you also know what that gentleman’s hobby is,” Jonas said.

  A soft chuckle came over the line. “Very good. He enjoys watching the greyhound races. At the Palm Beach Kennel Club, if memory serves.”

  “Excellent.” For a moment, Jonas wondered if he was talking to Theodore through a voice synthesizer. “You wish to set up a time for transfer and payment?”

  “Correct, and I must insist that the transaction occur this evening.”

  “That is very tight. However, it can be arranged. Let us say midnight? I can text you our GPS coordinates, if you wish.”

  There was a muffled conference, then the voice came back on line. “That will be acceptable.” The voice rattled off a number. “Send your position whenever you are ready.”

  “I look forward to making your acquaintance soon.”

  The speaker didn’t reply, but simply broke the connection. Jonas switched back to Kate. “We’re going to have company at 2400 hours.”