Close Quarters. Don Pendleton

      CHAPTER SIX

      Asunción, Paraguay

      Rafael Encizo sat surrounded by his friends at the medical facility attached to the U.S. Embassy. The staff physician had given him a clean bill of health, save for a mild concussion. He’d agreed to waive the standard twenty-four-hour observation window with McCarter’s solemn promise Encizo wouldn’t engage in any “excitement or strenuous physical activity” for the next three days. McCarter hated to be short a team member but it was a promise he intended to keep.

      “I feel fine,” Encizo protested after the doctor left the group to arrange for the Cuban’s release.

      “You’re grounded, mate,” McCarter said. “Simple as that and we’re not going to argue about it. I can’t bloody well have you suddenly go down in the middle of a hot zone, then we got two more that have to carry you out. It’s too dangerous.”

      “I suppose it’s pointless trying to get you to change your mind.”

      “It is.”

      “Fine, we’ll do it your way,” Encizo said with a frown. “But I don’t know what I can bring to the table sitting around the hotel room.”

      “I’m sure Russell could use your help,” Hawkins offered.

      “Yeah,” Encizo said. “Great.”

      “Cheer up, Rafe,” Manning said. “It could’ve been much worse.”

      “Like how?”

      “Like we could be standing here around your dead body for one thing,” McCarter replied. “But that’s enough of the chitchat. The subject’s closed. Let’s get out of here so he can get dressed.”

      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?”