"Excuse me, sir, but the chairman is in a meeting."
Pike turned his glare on the unfortunate officer. "I have the chairman's permission to see him at any time. I'm exercising that right."
The major wasn't even close to being a match for the scarred veteran. Pike twisted the knob, stepped into the office, and shut the door behind him. The several generals who were clustered around the chairman's desk glanced up in confusion, wondering who dared barge into the chairman's office unannounced.
Pike stopped and stared at Macksey. He was willing to be somewhat tactful about things. The room grew quiet as the other occupants watched the silent confrontation. Finally Macksey gestured abruptly. "Everyone out." The other generals scattered like geese.
When the door shut behind the last one, Macksey shook his head. "This is stupid, whatever you think you're doing."
"I just want to hear it from you and not the CIA."
"Hear what from me?"
"That the Hammer Task Force is disbanded."
"All right, you're hearing it from me. It's disbanded. That comes straight from the president. You all did a fine job while it lasted."
Pike felt the strength drain out of him. He knew he was about to butt his head against the wall again, but there were some things he would not compromise. He limped his way to the massive desk and leaned both gnarled hands on it. "You're just going to forget the chance one of those men may be alive? And leave those bodies there?"
Macksey shook his head. "That man is dead. We've received intelligence to that effect."
"From whom? Those assholes up the road at Langley? Why should they give a shit? They left our people to hang in Vietnam and Cambodia and Laos when they had confirmed sightings. Why the hell should they change now?" Pike laughed bitterly. "Shit. We left our own hanging, too. We're not any better than they are, but at least I thought we might have learned."
Macksey leaned slightly forward. "Watch your tone with me, Pike. Remember who you're talking to. I can bust you in a heartbeat."
Pike laughed mirthlessly. "Bust me! Bust me into what? I was busted when I hit those trees twenty-one years ago. I was busted every time I didn't roll over and kiss ass, and spoke what I felt was the truth regardless of who it pissed off."
Pike put his face as close to Macksey's as the desk would allow. "Let me tell you something, General. While you were brown-nosing on a general's staff during your one tour in 'Nam, I was watching buddies of mine get their asses shot off for three years in the bush. I took a round through my gut and busted my back. While you were playing politics here in Washington, kissing politicians' asses, I was traveling around the world going places you pretty play soldiers never go. Doing the job you couldn't and wouldn't do.
"You don't scare me. Let me tell you one last thing. There aren't many things I believed in in the army. But one of them was taking care of my men and I always did that. And when the army has gotten to a point where the head man doesn't do that, then you don't have to bother busting me. I quit!" Pike turned and headed for the door.
Behind him Macksey's tone had changed. "Listen, goddammit. There's nothing I can do. The president doesn't want the incident down there to get any worse. He's specifically—"
Pike slammed the door on Macksey's explanations and his army career.
Riley didn't bother standing up as did Westland when Strom walked in the door. There was only so much of the game that he'd play. He eyeballed the deputy director taking his place at the table across from him. Strom dominated the spare briefing room with his air of confidence and control. This was his turf and he wanted Riley to know it. Riley found it interesting that Strom chose to sit as far away from him as possible, leaving Westland at the head of the table, figuratively in the role of mediator.
On the drive over from Belvoir Riley had pumped Westland for more details, but the results had been lean. Strom was the man with the hard information, and just how much of it he would divulge was questionable. Riley knew Strom would give up only enough for Riley to do what they wanted him to, if killing Ring Man was indeed the purpose of the mission.
Strom slid two folders and two large envelopes to Westland, who passed one of each on to Riley. "That's all we've got on Ring Man, plus a listing of some information on our operations down there that you're going to need. In the envelopes you'll also find your cover documentation." Strom sat back in his chair and watched as Riley slowly opened his folder.
The top item was a five-by-eight photo of a man entering a limousine. "That's the latest photo we have of the Ring Man, taken a week ago in Bogota."
Riley examined the picture. The figure labeled as Ring Man would be easy to recognize. Riley scanned the rest of the picture. The limousine was obviously armored. In the background of the photo he caught glimpses of other figures, apparently security. "How big is Ring Man's normal guard detail?"
Strom shrugged. "Anywhere from three to ten. You can be sure he's upped it since he's started this war against the government and the other cartel leaders. In fact he hasn't been seen out and about for the past week, since that photo was taken."
"Where's he holed up?"
Strom gestured at the file folder. "The next picture is a ground shot of his villa outside Bogota. You've also got overhead imagery in there of the grounds and four kilometers around them, plus a one-to-fifteen thousand geo map of the area. We haven't had time to get any blueprints or details on security and alarms, but our man in Bogota is working on that and might have something for you tomorrow after you get there."
Riley examined what he could see of Ring Man's villa. Fortress would probably be a more appropriate term, he figured, as he took in the obvious security details. A ten-foot stone wall completely enclosed the grounds. He could make out guards at the main gate. The overhead imagery showed several more guards scattered around the grounds on the inside. Riley spotted some smaller shadows. "Looks like he's got dogs in there. Do you know what kind?"
"No info on that, old boy."
Riley glanced up in irritation. Strom was sitting there unperturbed with the hint of a smile on his face. Riley decided he was through fooling around. "Why don't you tell me what the hell you do know."
The smile grew slightly larger. "It's all in the folder. You'll know as much as I do after you read that."
"What about a name, or did that yo-yo's mother name him Ring Man?"
"All we have is Ring Man."
Riley glanced over at Westland and back to Strom. All right, he thought, fine. That's the way it's going to be. For the next thirty minutes, Riley carefully read through the rest of the folder, committing the important parts to memory.
There wasn't much there. Obviously someone had done a rush job on parts of the intelligence packet, although that was contradicted by the dating on some of the photos and imagery. That made Riley wonder when this mission had first been authorized.
Getting the high-resolution imagery of the villa required someone with a lot of power in the intelligence community. Riley didn't think there were too many spy satellites with orbits over Colombia, although for all he knew there might be. Besides, he knew they could always run a U-2 overhead for imagery if needed. The dates on the photos indicated an extensive surveillance had been in place as early as two days ago.
Finishing his studying he looked up. "Thursday night's too soon. With this amount of intelligence I can't move that fast. I'm going to need to put some surveillance on that villa, and I won't be able to do that tonight. If I'm able to eyeball it all night tomorrow night, I'll still need some time to plan. Friday night's the earliest I could hope to do anything, and that's only if I spot a weakness I can exploit."