Riley rolled his eyes in mock dismay. "Not another one of Gina's real estate girlfriends. I'd rather do a blind night drop into Panama than go through that again."
"I'll tell Gina you said that," Partusi threatened playfully.
"You do and I'll jumpmaster your next jump and forget to check your static line. I like Gina but I can't deal with those friends she sets me up with." Riley waited until the plane rolled to a stop and then stood up. "Let's go."
He led the way through the aisles, down the stairs, and across the tarmac to the small terminal that served Fayetteville. Entering the building he spotted the back of a figure encased in camouflage fatigues and topped with a green beret. "Our ride's here."
Riley snuck up behind his team sergeant and grabbed him around the neck. "Man, you'd get run over by a bulldozer, you're so unobservant."
Powers didn't turn. "Seems some sort of insect is hanging off my back. Probably be best if that bug lets go before I squash it."
Riley released his grip, laughing. "I'm too fast for you, Dan. You'd have a heart attack trying to catch me before you could squash me."
Powers finally turned. "Yeah, right, Dave. I didn't see you come in 'cause you're such a miniature human being it would have required binoculars to spot you."
Riley nodded. "Sure. You missed Partusi, too." Leading the way to the baggage claim, Riley tried to get up to speed. "What's going on back at group? What's the team doing?"
Powers grabbed Riley's duffel bag off the carousel. "Not much. Most teams in the battalion are down in Panama doing the police MTT. Nobody has said much of anything to me. I gave the guys Monday and Tuesday of next week off. Only reason I'm in uniform is to pick you up. You all can sign in and I'll drop you off at home. The colonel said not to show up until Wednesday."
Riley smiled. "Sounds like things are finally going to slow down. Maybe they've got a good deal lined up for us."
Powers turned and shook his head. "When you've been in the army as long as me you don't believe in good deals. It's like in combat: Just when you think things are quieting down is when you get hit the hardest."
CHAPTER NINE
Colonel Pike eyeballed Macksey's aide warily. Meeting the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff on a Saturday evening in the Pentagon was most unusual. Meeting him anytime would be unusual for Pike, since he was just one of hundreds of colonels running around the Pentagon. Certainly his job was involved in a sensitive area but not one that had ever gained such high-level notice before.
In addition to the time and place, not knowing the purpose of the meeting put an extra edge on Pike's unease. He doubted very much that he had been called to the Pentagon on this Saturday evening to be congratulated for doing such a "fine job" on the nuclear security mission. On the other hand, Pike couldn't think of anything from his job, unless it was the Colombian thing Linders had mentioned, that would require the involvement of the chairman. Pike smiled wryly to himself. Nor could he remember mouthing off to anybody lately, either. So that left a whole bunch of in-between reasons for the meeting.
The general's aide put down the phone and indicated for Pike to go in. Pike knocked on the chairman's door and entered. Behind a massive desk, flanked by flags, the chairman looked up from a file he had been reading. Pike crossed the room stiffly, stopped three feet in front of the desk, and snapped a salute. Macksey returned the salute smartly and indicated the chair he wished Pike to sit in. He then continued to read the file, occasionally glancing up at his visitor. Great leadership technique, Pike thought to himself. Macksey was what Pike termed a "political officer." The chairman had risen so high that in Pike's opinion he'd forgotten what it was like to be a soldier and real leader.
After several minutes, Macksey put down the file. "Very interesting." He looked Pike in the eyes. "You and your people are doing a fine job on the nuclear testing. Very good job."
"Thank you, sir." And? Pike thought.
"There's another job, actually you'd call it a mission, that has come up. Based on the last mission, and your record, I want you to head it up. As far as personnel goes, I want you to pick whoever you want out of the Special Forces community. I've already talked it over with Slaight at SOCOM and told him to give you whatever A-Team you want." Macksey looked at Pike, searching for a reaction.
Pike was noncommittal. How the hell could he know what A-Team he would want if he didn't know what the job was? Whatever happened to mission statement up front? "Yes, sir."
The whole thing was typical of the army, he thought. Do a good job and your reward is another, most likely tougher, job. The chairman probably wants to deploy me to some godforsaken place where I'll work seven days a week, around the clock, Pike thought. Screw up and the punishment is a quiet eight-to-four job on a nice backwater post waiting for retirement.
"It's a very sensitive matter. In a nutshell, I want you to head a task force that's going to conduct unilateral strike missions into Colombia to destroy cocaine processing laboratories. This mission comes from the highest level of our government and it must remain covert."
Pike's mind shifted into overdrive as he assimilated the information. He didn't need the chairman to tell him that this was going to be sensitive. And it sure as hell was a lot more exciting than fighting with air force pilots over what could and couldn't be done with a nuke.
"The president of Colombia has sanctioned this operation, so it's not as if you're invading the country. However, he most likely won't acknowledge the sanction if your people get caught."
Macksey passed a folder with a top secret/eyes only cover on it across his desk. "In there you'll find everything you need. On the first page are the points of contact here in the Pentagon from each service. This mission has top priority. If the person listed there doesn't give you what you want, you call me and I'll get it for you. My private numbers are there on the bottom of the first page.
"The key man for a lot of the coordination you'll be doing here in the Pentagon is your boss, Lieutenant General Linders. He can do the tasking of Special Operations units through the people down at MacDill. I've already given him a heads-up on this and he's ready to help you out. Other than him, no one else is authorized to know about these missions.
"Also you'll need these." Macksey reached in his desk and pulled out two shoulder boards with a star on each. "You've been breveted by the president. It'll be approved by Congress Monday."
Pike wasn't overly impressed with the stars. Breveting meant that when the mission was over he'd have to give the stars back. He was impressed with the mission, though.
Macksey pointed at the folder in Pike's hands. "On page two you'll notice that you'll be getting a CIA and DEA liaison. They'll both be at the meeting tomorrow at Fort Belvoir along with the team you choose. Now you and I both know that those two will be briefed to pay lip service to you and report back to their own bosses. That's OK as long as they do what you need them to do. If they give you a hard time, or become uncooperative, let me know right away. I'll relay that to Secretary Terrance and he'll grab the CIA director and get some action. As you can tell this is being watched at the highest levels. I know you can handle it."
Sensing he was dismissed, Pike stood up and saluted the chairman. So much for any time off, he thought as he left the room and worked his way to his basement office. Pike leafed through the folder. Nowhere in there was a written order spelling out the operation. He was struck with a peculiar sense of déjà vu. He'd had some experience running missions without written orders.
Pike entered his office and threw the file down on his desk. He stretched his back, trying to ease the constant ache. That discomfort was a reminder of one such official "unofficial" mission almost twenty years ago.