As with the previous two missions, the plan for Eyes Three was straightforward. The means of infiltration was a little different, but other than that it was business as usual.
Riley wondered whether it would be the same. His bad feeling about the intelligence was still there. Westland's angry recounting of how she had been treated by Strom did little to reassure him. Some CIA bureaucrat says don't worry and I'm supposed to buy off on that, Riley thought. Right.
He tightened a strap on his ruck and threw it on the floor, then took its place on his bunk. Powers glanced up from his bunk, where he was perusing a superspy, international espionage novel someone on the team had lent him. "Hey, partner, what's the matter? You still ain't worried about the intel stuff, are you?"
"Hell, yeah, compadre, I'm still worried about that. We could get our asses shot off if there is a leak."
Powers shook his head. "Listen, bud. Let me tell you a few rules I've learned in the college of hard knocks. First off, don't worry about things you can't control. Second, you can't trust them CIA dinks as far as you can throw them, but you also can't do nothing about them either. Third, if you was as good as the hero in this novel I'm reading, you'd be able to use your ninja sixth sense and figure everything out. Did you miss the class on being able to read the future in all those martial arts courses you took? The guy in this book has an inner sense that tells him when danger is near."
Riley laughed. "Yeah, I must have missed that day."
Powers turned serious for a moment. "Listen. This mission tomorrow night is a good one. We'll be coming in a direction they won't expect, and that no one except the people in this building know about. Even if there is a leak, we still have that on our side. I feel pretty good about it. Let it go and relax. Whatever's going to happen is going to happen. All we can do is make sure we got our shit in one tight little bag."
Riley nodded. "Yeah, you're right. You know me, though. I'm not happy unless I'm worrying. The more worrying—" He paused as he heard a knock on the door. "Come in."
He sat up on his bunk as he saw Westland edge her way into the room. "What's up? Some new intel?"
Westland shook her head. "No. Just thought I'd stop by. Say hello."
Riley smiled. She seemed a little nervous, and he wasn't sure how to put her at ease. He wasn't very experienced at small talk. His philosophy was that either you had something to say or you didn't, and he wasted little time talking about things he didn't think were important. It didn't help that Powers was sitting on his bunk watching the two of them, his eyeballs flicking back and forth, as though he was watching a tennis match.
Riley gestured at the small army-issue desk near the window. "Grab a seat. We were just talking about the mission tomorrow."
Powers groaned. "I don't want to talk about the mission tomorrow. I'm tired of talking about army crap."
Riley snorted. "For you that sure doesn't leave much to talk about, other than guns and beer drinking."
Powers put on his hurt expression. "Hey, I'm a cultured person. I can talk about a lot of other things." He stood up. "But seeing as you two don't quite make it up to my high standards of the art of conversation, I think I'll seek company elsewhere." Powers started easing the door shut behind him. "I'll knock before I come back in." He made a great show of looking at his watch. "Say in about a half hour. That ought to give you enough time." Riley threw a pillow at the door with a yell.
Westland looked at him and grinned. "I think he likes you."
Riley crossed his legs and sat in a yoga position on the bed. "Yeah, we get along pretty good. In the last year we've spent more time together than most married couples." He turned serious. "Dan's wife left him just after I got to the team, and he went through a rough time. He didn't miss his wife too much, but not having his two kids around tore him up. He started—"
Riley paused. He had just been about to tell Westland things that he had kept between Powers and him. It wasn't his place to disclose something told in friendship. Why had he been so ready to tell Westland, especially after knowing her for only about a week?
"Anyway, if you have a good team all the guys tend to get kind of tight. But it's funny in a way, too. You spend most of your time bullshitting with each other and not being serious too often, and you definitely don't get into someone's personal life. Not unless they want you to."
Riley decided to change the subject. "What about you? How do you find life over at Langley?"
Westland put her feet up on the desk. "I'm not really close to anyone over there. There's a weird mentality in the air. Everything you do is pretty much classified so you can never talk about work, and most like leaving the place behind when they go home at the end of the day. And those who don't I really don't like being around." Westland laughed self-consciously. "I guess I never thought about it much."
Riley contemplated her words. "Sometimes I think we end up living a life-style that we really don't think about too much. Kind of just flow with the stream and never do much steering."
"Are you a soldier-philosopher?"
Riley shrugged. "Sometimes. Sometimes when you're out in the woods in the middle of the night, waiting, your mind can really travel."
He smiled. "I'm good at asking questions but I don't have too many answers."
"Neither do I."
Riley's thoughts flickered back to the upcoming mission. "Hopefully we won't get any bad answers to our questions about the security of the mission when we go in tomorrow night."
"I don't think there's anything to worry about. At least I hope there isn't," Westland amended.
"Well, as Powers was just telling me before you came in, we'll find out soon enough."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Roberto Ramirez was frustrated and mad. Events were swiftly moving against him but he didn't know who to strike out against. Despite his ranting and raving Friday, his sons had been able to come up with few answers. He looked up as Carlos, his youngest son and business manager, came in the door and sat in front of his desk. "What is it?"
Carlos looked worried. "Suarez was attacked last night in a manner similar to the attack on us."
Roberto's aged forehead wrinkled as he considered this new development. "That gives us one negative answer at least. We know now that Suarez wasn't behind it."
"There's more, Padre. Suarez was killed in the attack on his main lab outside Medellin."
The Shark was surprised. "Why was Suarez up there in the middle of the night? What is going on? First us and now Suarez. Is the Ring Man waging war?"
Carlos shook his head negatively. "Our informants indicate that the Ring Man's people here have been inactive the last several days. If he is behind it then he has brought in outsiders who have managed to stay well hidden."
"But what about his moves on the markets in the United States that we are getting reports on? It seems as if he knew what was going to happen. He is moving quickly."
His son leaned forward. "I have another theory."
The Shark waved his hand. "What is it?"
"The Americans."
"What! Impossible. How could they do it? How could they have found out where our main lab was? They wouldn't dare attack into Colombia without government approval."
Carlos offered his theory. "Maybe it is the CIA acting alone or through mercenaries. I don't know. But some of the facts point to the Americans. Although there were no survivors from the attack on our camp, the evidence points to heavy-caliber weapons being fired from the air and artillery being used. Perhaps helicopter gunships and artillery at the same time. We know our military didn't do it. Who else could? Who else could move such weapons so quickly?
"There were some survivors at a roadblock near Suarez's camp and they report that helicopters were used in the attack. Since we know they weren't Colombian, that points to American involvement. Maybe they are reacting to the slaying of Santia."