"No, thank you." The Ring Man leaned back his chair and pulled out a cigar. "So, it is all going as planned?"
Alegre nodded. "Yes. The Americans have agreed."
"Good. Excellent."
Alegre wasn't entirely sure if the man was referring to the international situation or his cigar. The president shifted uncomfortably in his high-backed chair. He didn't like dealing with this man. The Ring Man had burst upon the cartel with devastating ruthlessness a little over four months ago, assassinating his boss, Ahate, in Bogota and taking over the operation. No one even knew his real name. The drug dealer took his name from the gold rings that adorned every finger. Shoulder-length hair, tied behind his head, framed the hatchet-like face. Alegre worried whenever he looked into the eyes that burned out of that face. They didn't seem totally sane.
"Do you have the targeting information for me?"
Ring Man passed a piece of paper across the table. "The map coordinates of two labs. One of Suarez's and one of Ramirez's. The timing is rather fortuitous, since my informants tell me both of these labs also hold major stockpiles of produce."
Alegre fingered the paper. "I hope this will get the Americans off our backs."
The Ring Man smiled benevolently at the president. "I have some other actions being developed as, shall we say, safeguards." He paused and his benevolence disappeared. "In fact, I am myself trying to find the people who were behind the unfortunate incident last week in America. Such foolish business practices could hurt my operation."
Alegre looked at the man across from him. His best guess was that Ramirez was responsible for the American massacre, but he wouldn't put it past the Ring Man to have done it himself to put more heat on him to get the Americans involved in this plan and put the pressure of suspicion on the Ramirez family.
Alegre knew he was playing a dangerous game with the Ring Man. Their goals were different, but for now the paths to their goals remained the same. Alegre wondered what would happen when their paths diverged and Ring Man found out.
The fact that the Ring Man sat brazenly in his office with impunity was a sign of the drug lord's power, Alegre knew. There was no way Alegre could touch him right now, legally or otherwise. To do so would be tantamount to committing suicide. Ring Man wielded too much power and had legally insulated himself from the dirty end of his business through numerous cutouts and subsidiaries. The man may appear insane but he had a mind of startling cunning. Even if Alegre had enough hard evidence on Ring Man, he seriously doubted he could get a judge to issue a warrant. It would be asking that judge to sign a suicide note.
The purpose of the meeting accomplished, Alegre stood up and escorted the Ring Man to the door. "I will relay the information through my contact to the Americans."
The Ring Man smiled coldly at the shorter man. "I hope we can continue to do business together in such an amiable fashion."
Alegre smiled thinly. "I hope so also."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Strom surveyed the agent seated across the desk from him. He spoke slowly, making sure every word got across.
"Agent Westland, you're going to be our representative on the task force that's being formed." He passed a folder across his desk. "This contains your instructions on how to maintain contact with Jameson so he can give you information from Bogota. You're going to be the one relaying that intelligence to the military.
"It's essential that you check out the information as carefully as possible. Since you'll be operating out of Fort Belvoir you'll have access to the air force imagery unit over there. You can also use anything you need from here. You're authorized to go up to level six on the data you can show the army people. That ought to be more than sufficient. You know Patterson down in graphics?"
Westland nodded. "Yes, sir. We worked together on the Panama invasion intelligence the year before last."
Strom steepled his fingers. "Hmm. Yes, that's right. You all did a good job on that operation. The DEA is also going to have their embassy liaison from Colombia attached to the task force. From what I have found out, he might not be too much help. The man's an alcoholic and hasn't done anything worthwhile since he got posted down there. His name is Rich Stevens.
"The whole operation is going to be run by some army general. Technically he'll be in charge of you, but in reality you report back to me. This whole thing is going to be real tricky, but whatever happens we don't want the cover blown. We've worked hard to keep Alegre in power and we bloody well want to keep him there. I'm sure you're up to date on all that's going on down there and how precarious his situation is.
"I've ordered Norton, your section chief, to give you an update briefing anyway, just in case. However, he's not to know what you're working on. As of now you're relieved of all your normal duties and responsibilities. The director and I are the only ones, besides you, who are cleared for information on this mission and I want it to stay that way."
"Yes, sir."
Strom smiled benevolently at the agent. "This is a great opportunity for you to show us what you can do. I'm sure you won't let us down."
"No, sir."
"You need to get over to Norton's office right now. The first targeting information should be coming in tonight and I want you to be ready tomorrow when you meet the rest of the task force over at Belvoir."
"Yes, sir."
Strom stood up. "Good luck and keep me informed."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bern Holder, the team's junior engineer, drove the van while Riley sat next to him navigating. Scrunched into the back were the other ten members of the team, along with all their gear. It would have made a great commercial for Chevy carryalls, Riley thought to himself.
Arriving an hour ago at the post airfield, after flying in from Bragg, the team had picked up the van that was waiting for them there. The sergeant who signed the vehicle over to Riley had handed him a map of the post with a building circled in red. Go there, he told them. The man had shrugged when questioned further. He was just a gofer. He didn't know anything. Riley felt empathy with the man on that score. Since the alert yesterday, all he'd gotten from the group duty officer was information on where to go and when, but no why’s.
"Turn right here." Riley started counting building numbers.
"We there yet, Mister Riley?"
Riley shook his head. He felt like a parent on a long car trip with children whining in the backseat: "We there yet?" Except it sounded a lot worse coming from a captain in the army. During the hustle of getting the team ready to move out yesterday, the team had been assigned six additional bodies to fill out Operational Detachment Alpha (ODA) 055, as the team was formally called, to its authorized strength of twelve.
One of those new bodies was Captain Vaughn, who had nominally taken over as team leader. Riley hadn't had the chance to really talk with the new captain yet. It had been enough hassle just loading out and getting everyone up here to Belvoir. So far, Captain Vaughn had left Riley particularly unimpressed.
Riley spotted what he was looking for according to the map. "That's it there. Turn in."
Holder turned the van and they rolled through the gates into a fenced compound. The van pulled up to the front of a two-story brick building that looked as though it had once been some sort of unit headquarters. A sedan with government plates was parked outside.
Riley turned to Powers, seated behind him. "Let everybody out to stretch their legs but don't unload the gear yet. I'm not sure if we'll be staying here or not. I'll take the captain in and see what we can find out."