"They've had that all their life — people threatening them."
"What was in the bag?" Thorpe asked.
"Needles. I got a buddy at the post hospital who gets them for me. Crew — you saw the way he was shaking? He's got AIDS. A lot of the other ones do too. Heroin is real big now. That place is not exactly the cleanest and they tend to share needles. And sex."
Lorsen jabbed a finger in Thorpe's chest. "It isn't up to you or me to get them killed. So if you catch up with this Jewel Man, you better make sure you make a clean sweep of things. Because he might come back here asking questions and I don't think he'll be as nice as we were. Do I make myself clear?"
Thorpe looked down the narrow alley, taking in the garbage, the used needles and condoms. "Yeah, I hear you."
"No," Lorsen said, "you only hear half of what I'm saying." He pulled the pictures out of his pocket. "You know one of these girls. The others are strangers. Would you be here if you didn't know one of them? Would you give a shit about these girls you don't know?"
To that, Thorpe didn't have an answer.
The sergeant major had checked the post's reverse directory and learned that the number Takamura had called was in the G-l section in SOCOM's headquarters building. Parker and Dublowski were both on the access roster for SOCOM headquarters, so while most of Fort Bragg was out doing physical training they entered the building, flashing their ID cards at the security guards. There was no one in the G-l section and they split up, checking the phone lines until they found Takamura's desk.
"This is it," Parker said, sitting down in front of the computer that took up most of the space on top of the desk. She noted the little pewter Star Trek figure on the desk next to the monitor. She turned the computer on and they both waited as it booted up. Getting the main screen, she accessed the fax/E-mail program.
"Here it is." She pointed at the screen. "Incoming E-mail early this morning. Same time as the call from Takamura's cell phone."
"What is it?" Dublowski demanded.
"It's not that easy," Parker said. She typed in several commands, each one ending in a beep and accessed denied. "I can't get into it without Takamura's password."
"It's a goddamn army computer," Dublowski growled. "It can't be that hard to beat."
"Well, it's harder than I can handle." Parker sat back in the chair and checked her watch. "And this place is going to start filling up with people in half an hour."
"I know someone who can get in there," Dublowski said.
"Can you get him here in the next twenty minutes?"
"No," Dublowski said, "but I can bring this to him." He knelt down and pulled the CPU for the computer out from under the desk. He pulled out his Leatherman and cut the lines in the back and tucked it under one arm. "Let's go."
"How long before you can deliver what you promised?" The Russian was flawless, the accent strange.
The colonel eyed the stack of bills piled on the table in front of him. "I did not expect you back so soon."
"I do not care what you expected." The man pointed at the money, jeweled rings flashing. "This is what you asked for."
"It will take some time. I was not prepared."
"Why not?"
The colonel laughed. "There are so many pretenders in the world. Men pretending to be something they're not."
"I am for real."
"I know that now."
"The only reason I am here," the Jewel Man said, "is because your German contact was legitimate."
"I heard you tested the product," the colonel said. "I assume it was to your satisfaction?"
"It worked," the Jewel Man allowed.
"Of course it worked," the colonel said. "It was used in Afghanistan. The test wasn't necessary."
"It was for me."
"What do you plan to do with the material?"
"That is not your concern."
"It could be."
"Just get me the material."
"Many people have spies watching many places," the colonel said. "It could be dangerous. It was dangerous to set up the German meeting. And expensive. You could have just come here in the first place."
"That would have been foolish," the Jewel Man said. "What's done is done. Just get the material."
"It will cost more than we agreed on."
The Jewel Man sighed. "You have been paid."
"Transfer another two million in American dollars to my account."
"I will pay," the Jewel Man said, "but do not ask for more. How large will the package be?"
"Not very large. A little bit goes a long way. For what you said you wanted, about six briefcases."
"How long will it take you to get that amount of material?"
"It will take me at least two days."
The Jewel Man looked out the grimy window of the hotel. He shook his head. "Two days in this pigsty?"
"I could perhaps arrange some company for you?" the colonel was stuffing the bills into a black sack. "Chernovsty is not such a bad place. I have been stationed at worse. Especially when I was in the Soviet army."
"I am sure you have seen worse," the man said. "I will survive without your company. You may go now."
Anger flashed in the Ukrainian colonel's eyes, but the weight of the black sack in his hand forestalled his words. He turned on the worn heel of his boots and left the room.
Alone, the Jewel Man pulled a chair to the window and stared out at the street. He pulled the titanium case out of his pocket and began flicking it through his fingers as he thought.
Chapter Seventeen
The Delta Force Ranch sprawled over a large part of the Fort Bragg Reservation. It was surrounded by a wire-topped link fence with a patrol road on the inside. The compound contained not only the buildings housing the various elements of the force, but numerous training areas, including several live-fire ranges, a live-fire building, along with the fuselage of a Boeing 707 and a full-sized train for the troopers to practice their skills on.
Delta Force had earned its name from its official designation of Special Forces Operational Detachment Delta: Traditional Special Forces groups consisted of an Alpha Detachment (A-team), Bravo Detachment (B-Team, or company headquarters) and Charlie Detachment (C-Team, or battalion headquarters). When Colonel Charlie Beckwith formed a new unit in 1977 specifically designed to fight terrorism, he called it the SFOD-D, or Delta Force.
Beckwith had spent a tour of duty with British SAS, Special Air Service, and upon his return to the United States, realized his own army had no unit quite like the SAS, even though one was needed. Contrary to the common image of Special Forces, Green Berets were not specifically trained to be commandos or counterterrorist specialists, but rather were primarily designed to be teachers — force multipliers who could train other country's peoples to fight for themselves, whether it be in the guerrilla mode or counterguerrilla as they had in Vietnam.
Colonel Parker knew all about the history of Special Forces and the formation and mission of Delta Force from her time in air force Special Operations, which had often worked with their army counterparts. Her ID card and top-secret clearance, along with Sergeant Major Dublowski's presence, got her through the gate to the Ranch.
Inside the fence she picked up the different atmosphere immediately. The men walking around looked different from the norm — it was something she had noted before when around Special Operators. They carried themselves with more confidence, but they weren't cocky. They were men who had volunteered for a dangerous assignment, gone through the training that had weeded out the wannabes and left only those capable of doing a hard job and doing it well.
Dublowski drove up to a low sand-colored building with a red tile roof. He carried the hard drive they had taken from Takamura's office with him as they walked to the door and entered.