for a moment on his face. Then he gathered himself and directed his gaze at the man seated across the desk from him.
“I truly believe you’re the only man in the damn country who wouldn’t betray me,” the President said, studying the big Fed closely. “Tell me I’m right, Hal.”
“No problem, Mr. President. You know how I feel about this office and you especially. I work for you. No one else. The SOG is your security arm. We don’t compromise on our mandate and that goes down the line.”
The President relaxed a little. He reached out and placed a hand on a file.
“Are you up to date on this?”
“I read your memo.”
This time the Man managed a laugh.
“Memo. Well, that cuts it down to size. Then you’ll know the defense community has been losing top-secret electronic hardware. Computer software has gone, too, specifically items developed for current and developing missile applications. Guidance and stabilizing systems. Inflight circuitry boards. God knows what else. From what I’ve been able to gather, the suspicion is the stuff has been stolen to order and sold to the end user—namely the Chinese.
“I have been reliably informed that the Chinese are currently engaged in an all-out program being developed so their military can keep pace with the latest in missile capacity.”
“China? Our emerging Asian trading buddies?” Brognola asked.
“Exactly. Don’t let all that twenty-first-century business expansion fool you, Hal. The Chinese will play the market for what it’s worth. They’ll build our TV sets, washing machines and DVD recorders. Automobiles, too, if we let them. And they’ll undercut prices, sell by the shipload and collect their pay in dollars. Then they will use those dollars to buy military know how by the back door.”
“What’s behind all this?” the big Fed queried.
“Survival. Our defense program has always been ahead of theirs, because we put in the money and the time. No one has the capacity to match the Slingshot satellite system, and once we get the Zero platform fully operational, that will put us even further ahead. The Russians only pushed the knife in deeper when they announced they were going to update their own ballistic missile arsenal again. For home defense, they quoted,” the President stated.
“And there’s no way the Chinese are going to stand by and let that happen.”
“Precisely. China sees itself as number one in their neck of the woods and a major player on the world stage. They aren’t going to lose face and end up the poor kid on the block behind the U.S. and Russia.”
“Full circle,” Brognola said. “Back where we started.”
“If we allow it to happen. The Chinese are aware that starting from scratch means years of development and testing. Buying in technology, to be copied and reproduced, will give their armament community one hell of an advantage. They let us do all the research and development, spend the billions, then buy the goods from their U.S. supplier. All they need then is to analyze the components and start to build their own.”
“Suspicions?” Brognola probed.
“Nothing we can move on officially. It’s believed an organization called Shadow run by a man named Oliver Townsend may be the culprit. The CIA got close to a deal being brokered but the whole thing went to the wall at the eleventh hour, so we’re no closer to the truth at this time,” the President told him.
“We heard through the grapevine about some CIA people getting killed. This the same incident?”
The President nodded. “Three. Shot down in cold blood during surveillance on the deal I mentioned. Early indications suggest it might have been one of their own who pulled the trigger. There’s a transcript of the tape that recorded the last words of one of the agents.”
“Anything on the shooter?”
“No admission yet. Personally I don’t believe they know. But the CIA is embarrassed that the killing may have been by one of their own. They were caught off guard. The Agency has closed ranks. There’s an internal investigation being carried out, but every time I ask questions I don’t get much. I have the feeling the CIA is confused by what happened and they don’t know themselves who to trust. I’m the President, Hal. I should be able to get to the truth.”
“You want Stony Man to take this on for you?”
“Damn right I do. No stonewalling, Hal. I want this handled. Top to bottom. I want this mess cleaned up. From the CIA mole, through to the people handling these deals and the Chinese. If Beijing is sanctioning the purchase of U.S. technology, I want it stopped. What’s the point of us developing superior firepower if it’s being taken from under our noses and sold down the road to use against us? This is a direct threat to U.S. security. Put an end to it. We’re being taken for a ride here, Hal, and I won’t let it go on. If the Chinese want down and dirty, they can have a taste themselves. Do we understand each other?”
“No restraints, Mr. President?”
“When was the last time that worried you, Hal?”
“Just like hearing you say it, sir.”
“No restraints, Hal. Get our hardware back, or destroy it so the Chinese can’t use it. Go the whole damn mile and however farther you have to go. If the Chinese are running this deal, give them a bloody nose and shut the operation down.”
“Repercussions?”
“I’m sure there will be, but we’ll field them if and when. Be interesting to hear the mitigating circumstances from Beijing.” The President slid a file across the desk. “Main points. All the detail I’ve been able to collect. I’m sure your Mr. Kurtzman’s cyberteam will find out more.”
“They like a challenge, sir.”
“Usual terms, Hal. If want anything, just pick up the phone and ask me.”
Stony Man Farm, Virginia
T HE ACTION TEAMS and support staff sat at the War Room conference table.
The meeting was headed by Hal Brognola, with Barbara Price, mission controller, at his side. Aaron “The Bear” Kurtzman was checking out the monitor setup, ready to reveal his findings.
The members of Phoenix Force and Able Team were spaced around the table, all of them eager to get the proceedings under way.
“Let’s have the light show,” Brognola said to Kurtzman.
Kurtzman tapped in a command and the large wall monitor displayed a series of photographic images, the first one showing Oliver Townsend. The other shots were of people known to be associated with him and working out of the ranch he operated in South Texas, close to the border with Mexico. The sequence was short. No one recognized any of them, until T. J. Hawkins asked if Kurtzman could backtrack.
“That one,” he said.
The image was held. Hawkins leaned forward to make certain he had been correct, then nodded.
“That’s him. Vic Lerner.”
“He’s
