Riley didn't need to look at Pike's book of figures to know about drugs. He'd grown up on the streets of the South Bronx, where he'd seen firsthand the effects of drugs. It wasn't an abstract thing that he read about in the papers or saw on TV and thought: "How awful." Riley had lost boyhood friends to drugs. He'd seen the bodies and the families torn apart. He also knew that, but for the army and Special Forces, there was a damn good chance he'd have been one of those statistics. Fighting drugs was a cause that could make a man feel good about himself and his job.
Riley briefly remembered China — a little over two years ago now. There he'd given his blood, and half a year recovering in a hospital, on a mission that had ultimately meant little, except to the men and women who had participated. The lines had been blurred there — here the lines seemed crystal clear.
The question Riley now pondered was: how effective would all this be? Even if they shut down some labs, the addicts would still get their stuff one way or another. The price may go up, but as long as the demand existed, and people were willing to pay a lot of money, someone would always be willing to take the risks to meet the demand. On the other hand, Riley reasoned, doing nothing was tantamount to throwing your hands up and saying, "I'm defeated." That was something Riley had never said in his life and he wasn't about to start now.
Riley turned to the new team leader. He figured he'd done enough of the talking so far. It was time for the captain to earn his pay. "What do you think, sir?"
Vaughn looked slightly startled but quickly regained his composure. "I didn't hear the general asking us if we wanted to do this mission, Mister Riley. I do what I'm ordered to do. Sounds like a good mission."
Riley smiled to himself. Good answer. Nobody had asked them. Sure, they could make a big stink, but the bottom line was that they really didn't have much choice. That was part of being in the army.
Pike stood up. "You all have about twenty minutes to get settled in. The DEA and CIA will be arriving then. We'll meet across the hall in the main isolation room. We don't have much of anything in there except office supplies and furniture. The CIA is supposed to be bringing all the maps and intelligence you'll need to start planning."
Riley dumped his rucksack and duffel bag in the small room he would share with Dan Powers. Glancing out the window, he saw another government sedan pulling into the compound. He grabbed Powers and they went down the stairs and out into the lobby. The sedan pulled up in front of the door. A woman got out of the passenger side and a man out of the driver's. Riley watched as they opened the trunk of the car and started unloading cardboard filing boxes. Riley opened the door as they came in with the first load. He stood in front of them. "CIA or DEA?"
"CIA."
Powers stepped in front of the man, his bulk completely blocking the door. Riley knew Powers didn't like the CIA. "Don't mind if I see some credentials, do you?"
The man looked irritated. He set the box down, pulled out his wallet, and showed his ID card. Powers nodded. "You and your secretary can dump all that stuff in the room there to the left."
Powers turned and looked into the isolation area. He spotted two figures. "Marzan and Partusi! Get over here." The two came out. "Give these people a hand unloading the car," Powers directed them.
The woman called over her shoulder as she went back out for another load. "There's more in the backseat."
"Yes, ma'am."
Two trips later the car was unloaded. The two CIA agents shook hands, and one got in the car and drove off. The other turned to Powers. "My associate won't be working with us. I'm Agent Kate Westland. I'll be your liaison from the agency for the duration of the mission."
Riley almost laughed out loud as Powers blushed and stammered. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I just thought, well, I don't know. I didn't mean nothing. It's just that, well—"
Riley interceded. "Master Sergeant Powers has never worked with a woman before, so he made the wrong assumption. I'm Chief Warrant Officer Riley, the detachment's executive officer. General Pike should be back here shortly. He just went over to see the post commander to get some military police support to secure this compound."
The woman took the offered hand, then turned and went into the isolation area. Riley looked at her as she walked away, cataloging her as he did all people he met. She was of medium height, actually tall for a woman, about five foot nine, which made Riley look up at her slightly. She had somewhat broad shoulders, which seemed incongruous on an otherwise slender build. Looking at her bare arms Riley could see the muscles twist and ripple as she moved some of the file boxes. He nodded to himself approvingly, using a somewhat different scale than most men. She definitely took care of herself physically. She had dark hair, cut short in a more functional than fashionable manner. Her skin tone was almost as dark as Riley's. She looked younger, but judging by the lines around her eyes, Riley estimated she was probably in her late twenties to early thirties.
Another car drove into the lot. Pike got out with difficulty and came inside. Riley pointed out their new teammate. "There's the CIA."
Pike walked over and introduced himself. As he was doing so, a third car rolled in. An overweight man got out. Peering around he walked up to the door.
Riley inspected the new arrival. Old to be a field agent. Looked to be in his fifties. Riley examined more closely. Most likely he was in his early forties. A red-veined nose and a beer belly suggested that alcohol had aged him. Riley cursed to himself — they didn't need a rummy, if the man was one. He checked the man's ID card and then let him into the planning room. The DEA had arrived.
Riley sent Powers out to round up the team. Time to start the fun and games.
The fifteen task force members were seated on folding chairs in a rough circle, facing each other. General Pike started the meeting. Riley knew that the general would keep it somewhat informal. Pike believed that people thought better that way and would contribute important ideas they might not otherwise convey.
"Good morning. I think the first order of business is introductions and a little background information on each of us. I'm General Pike and I'm the officer in charge of this task force. Prior to this assignment I was the army Special Operations staff officer in the office of the DCSOP- SO in the Pentagon. As part of that job I supervised the nuclear facility testing team project. Six of the members of the detachment here were on one of those teams. Prior to that assignment, I spent a few years doing various army things, most of them in the Special Operations arena." That was an understatement if Riley had ever heard one.
Pike looked at Captain Vaughn. "Captain, I'd like Mister Riley to introduce your team if you don't mind, since he's worked with them longer than you have. Dave, I'd like you to include a brief description of each man's skills."
Riley wished the general had let Vaughn introduce the team. The captain was getting his ego damaged enough as it was with all the constant referrals to Riley instead of him. However, the general also knew that Vaughn didn't even know all the members of the team and probably wasn't clear on their responsibilities and capabilities, having never worked with an SF A-Team outside of a school environment.
Riley stood up. "I'm Chief Warrant Officer Riley, the detachment executive officer. I'm responsible for all intelligence matters and am the second in command of the team."