Eyes of the Hammer (The Green Berets) (47 page)

Westland was starting to get angry. "Don't take that attitude with me. I'm capable of making my own decisions and I'm also capable of taking care of myself. In case you've forgotten, I've managed to do that pretty well so far. It's not up to you whether I stay here or leave. It's up to me."

Riley tried another line of reasoning. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do. You have no responsibility toward Powers. He's my friend and that's why I'm doing this. You ought to get while the getting's good."

Westland put her hand on Riley's shoulder. "Let me tell you a few things. First off, don't ever try to tell me what to do. You can ask and suggest, but don't order me. Second, I do feel some responsibility toward Powers. Third, I also feel some sense of responsibility toward you, and I'm not going to let you get your head blown off by doing something stupid. And last, I do what I want and I want to stay here."

Riley was staring at her. He'd expected her to be obstinate but he hadn't realized the depth of her feelings. He was at a loss for words.

Westland let go of his shoulder. "So what's the plan?"

Riley gave in. "Your guess is as good as mine. We go back up and continue surveillance. I don't know if Pike has come up with anything, and even if he has there's no way we can contact him. Whatever he may have done he'll probably have to cancel now. We have to assume we're on our own. Between the two of us we have to come up with a way to get into that villa, rescue Powers, and get out again—hopefully keeping all of us alive."

Westland nodded. "We'd best get back on up the hill then and put our thinking caps on."

PRESIDENTIAL PALACE, BOGOTA

1:45 P.M.

Montez had seriously considered not passing on the message from the Ring Man's aide. The whole thing stunk and Montez didn't trust the Israeli. The problem was that this was the only way to get things back to normal. They would have to take a chance that the offer was legitimate.

Montez had waited patiently while Alegre finished a meeting with the mayor of Bogota. The mayor was complaining about the increasing toll the revenge of the cartel was exacting on the city. Montez found the whole thing darkly amusing, considering it was well known that the mayor was on the payroll of the Ring Man. Appearances were important, though.

After ushering out the still-protesting mayor, Montez joined his old friend at his desk. Alegre poured them both a stiff shot of brandy, then waited until Montez had swallowed his before querying him. "Any news?"

Montez put his glass down. "I have heard from the Ring Man's representative. He says they agree to the truce but they cannot speak for the other members of the cartel."

The news didn't make Alegre feel any better. He felt as if he had sold a part of his soul. "They agree to stop the bombings and killings?"

"The representative, one of those Israeli mercenaries named Ariel, said that they would stop any attacks against what he called 'civilian targets,' but that the fighting in Cartagena and Medellin would go on as long as there was opposition to the Ring Man's rule. He promised peace here in Bogota but said they could not be held responsible for any attacks instigated by other families."

Alegre nodded. That was the best they could expect. The problem was that this truce assisted the Ring Man more than it did him. It allowed the Ring Man to concentrate on the war against his fellow drug dealers, with no interference from the government. Alegre's main concern was that the Ring Man would once more turn his attention to toppling the government when he had secured his power base within the cartel.

Montez poured them both another brandy. Handing one to the president he added, "The Israeli also added something to the terms of the truce."

"What?"

"As a sign of good faith he says they are willing to turn over an American soldier they captured during the raid on the Ring Man's lab."

Alegre looked up in surprise. "Another secret the Americans did not tell us. Do you think they really have a prisoner?"

"I don't think they have any reason to lie about that."

Alegre couldn't follow the logic of the offer. "Why didn't they put him on the video, and why are they giving him to us?"

"I think they didn't put him on the video because it would have given the Americans an excuse to come down here and intervene. As to why they are giving him to us," Montez shrugged, "your guess is as good as mine. I am concerned, though, by the conditions this Israeli set for the turnover." He looked Alegre in the eye. "They want you present when they give him to us."

"Why?"

Montez could make a good guess. "I think it is a ploy to get you out into the open."

"What do you recommend?"

Montez finished his brandy with a swig. "I recommend we accept the offer. However, I will insist that the Ring Man also attend the turnover."

Alegre smiled as he realized his aide's cunning. "When and where is this scheduled?"

"I will call the Israeli back to set up the timing and see if we can work out a mutually acceptable site. I imagine we could do this tomorrow."

KNOLL 8548

8:34 P.M.

Riley sat on the opposite side of the tree trunk from Westland. They were perched on branches, almost twenty-five feet over the top of the knoll. He pointed while he briefed her on the plan he had devised. As he spoke, he realized how bad the plan was.

"An hour before the guards change at 0300, if they do it the same time they did it the night before last, is when I'll go in over the east wall where the wing of the house comes closest. The way we'll do it is that you stay up here with the M21. You should be able to see the guards through the scope because they keep the place illuminated all night. I'll have on the PVS-5s and the MP5.

"I'll go down to the wall and wait. When you see that the guard on that side is out of sight of the place where I'll be going over, or walking away with his back to it, you light a match. You only need to light it and blow it out—it'll be like a flare in the goggles. I'll go over at your signal. I'll only have to make it from the wall to the building. I can do that in a few seconds." He didn't add that he had no idea whether there were sensors on the wall that would pick up his intrusion.

"The windows are barred and maybe even rigged with alarms, but I think I can climb up to the roof of the wing and make it over to the second floor of the main building. I'll have a better chance of getting in there.

"Once I'm in . .." Riley paused. Something wasn't right.

Westland was startled by the pause. "What's the—" Riley held up his hand, signaling her to stay still. He scanned the immediate area, first with his naked eyes. Seeing nothing unusual, he surveyed the area using the sight mounted on the M21. He could sense Westland becoming restless as the minutes stretched out.

Powers had always told him to trust his sixth sense. The experienced NCO had explained his theory of sixth sense one evening at Fort Bragg, and his reasoning had seemed logical. Powers told him that people took in much more input with their senses than their minds could handle. The mind filtered out many of the things a person's eyes actually saw and their ears actually heard or any of the other senses were picking up. The sixth sense was some part of the mind alerting you to something seen or heard or smelled or felt that the active mind wasn't focusing on.

Riley was trying to find whatever it was that had caused him to alert. Finally he picked it out. The noise of the birds and other small creatures on the hillside had altered. Riley knew patience was important now. Whatever, or whoever, had disturbed the wildlife would either make its presence known or go away. Riley was willing to wait it out.

He scanned the sides of the knoll in small arcs, noting the plant life, looking for any disturbances. Finally he was rewarded. He spotted a branch sway, its movements contrary to the direction of the wind. Riley focused in on the spot, about one hundred twenty meters away on the west side of the knoll.

After five minutes a man materialized at that spot, standing up and stretching. The man turned and spoke to someone still concealed by the undergrowth. Riley inspected the person he could see. About six feet tall, well muscled, wearing a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt. The man was dark haired and sported a large mustache. In a sheath tied off on his backpack, he carried a machete. What really caught Riley's attention was the weapon slung over his shoulder. A Mossberg Model 500 Bullpup shotgun nestled against the man's hip, ready for action. Not a typical sicario's weapon, Riley thought. Although the twelve-gauge automatic shotgun was a devastating weapon at short range, Riley knew he held the advantage at this distance with the M21.

That advantage of weapon range disappeared as the second man stood up. This one was blond haired with a full beard and stood even taller than his partner, at almost six and a half feet. He had a long-barreled rifle slung over his back and an Uzi submachine gun on a sling hung over his belly.

The two men were obviously discussing their position. The taller man was gesturing up the hill toward Riley's location. If the man intended to use that rifle against the villa, or cover the villa from attack, Riley knew the top of knoll 8548, where he and Westland were sitting, was the place. He wondered who the two men were. He figured either they were extra security placed out by the Ring Man to cover his villa or they were enemies of the Ring Man and were up here for some of the same reasons Riley was. Although not Colombian, the two could be foreign mercenaries. The tall man looked as though he might be German. The two had apparently reached a decision. They headed upslope.

Riley focused his cross hairs on the chest of the man with the long-barreled weapon. He debated firing. If they were enemies it was best to kill them now, while he still had the range. Every step they took up the hill decreased his odds of successful engagement. However, his firing would also be heard down in the villa and would undoubtedly bring a reaction force. It was this last thought that stilled Riley's finger.

He pulled away from the eyepiece and glanced over at Westland. She had spotted the two men and had drawn her pistol. Riley gestured for her to take no action. He quietly put the rifle down in the crook of the branch and took hold of his submachine gun.

The two men moved with evident field experience. The lead man had the shotgun at hip level and swung it back and forth in concert with his head as he scanned their way up. The second man carried the Uzi, folding stock extended, and was trailing the first, allowing a good tactical separation of almost twenty meters. The mistake they were making was one that even the most experienced soldier can make: They were focusing on the ground and not checking up in the trees. It was a universal bad habit. There was a good chance the two would pass right beneath his and Westland's position without noticing them. But Riley knew he couldn't afford to take that chance.

He got Westland's attention and pointed at the lead man, indicating that he was hers. She nodded. Riley centered his sights on the second man. He waited until the lead man was within ten meters of the base of their tree. "Freeze, I've got you covered," he yelled out in Spanish.

They froze. The lead man slowly lifted his head until he could see into the tree. He took in the two people crouched up there and their weapons. The odds were against him. He called out to his partner in Spanish. "There's two in the tree. Man and a woman. They've got a sub on you and a pistol on me."

"Shut up," Riley yelled. Now that he had frozen the action he wasn't sure how to proceed. The trail man was easing himself over toward a tree trunk, trying to get its cover. "Move another step and you're dead."

The man stopped. The lead man was still looking up at them. "Perhaps we should talk."

"Who are you?" Riley called out.

The lead man seemed rather confident for someone who had a pistol pointing at him. "That's a good question. One we might ask you. But I think I might know more about you than you know about us. Your name Riley?"

Riley studied the man. Who the hell would know his name?

The man switched to English. "And the lady there is Westland, I presume. Only a goddamn Green Beanie would take a woman into a tree on a date."

Riley was confused. "Who the hell are you?"

"Let me ask you something first. If you answer right we can do all the talking you want. What was your first car?"

Riley recognized the question. It was from his finger card—the card every member of the team had filled out prior to the mission and placed inside the escape and evasion packet that had been given to Pike. Each man's card had his fingerprints and photograph, plus three questions only he would know the answers to. The purpose of the questions was to verify identity in case a link had to be made with an unknown party. The person asking had access to the information in the E & E packet, which meant he was legitimate; the person being asked established his identity by answering the obscure question correctly.

"A '64 Plymouth Valiant," Riley answered. The man lowered his shotgun. Riley sighed. He turned to Westland, who had followed the exchange in confusion. "They're friendlies."

He led the way down out of the tree. By the time they got to the bottom the two men were waiting there. The shorter one gestured and the tall blond man climbed up to take their place. Getting to the branch, he rested his rifle on it and started scanning the compound.