Death Minus Zero. Don Pendleton
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“Unfortunately, I can, sir. Which makes this latest move against Saul Kaplan something we need to fully address. Stony Man will put everything we have on this.”
“I don’t care what toes you step on or who you upset. If there are territorial borders you need to cross, I’ll stand by you.”
The President’s mood and his willingness to stand by his people made Brognola aware of the implications if Zero was compromised.
“What about...?” the President started to ask.
He was asking about Mack Bolan.
The Executioner.
“The guy is off somewhere on a mission he initiated himself. He’s gone black. We’ve had no contact with him for over a week. We have no idea where he is right now. And we don’t have the luxury of waiting for him to make contact.”
“I only mentioned him because he was so deeply involved the first time around. No slight on the other teams, Hal, since I know they’ll offer us the best way out of this.”
“You can depend on that, sir. This will be our priority from right now.”
“Keep me informed, Hal. I want to be kept apprised every step of the way,” the President said. “Which brings me to ask, do you need anything?” The Man paused. “Hal, anything.”
Brognola’s phone began to ring. When he took it out, he saw that the screen was showing a call from Stony Man.
“Like I said, Mr. President, we’re on this as of right now. Excuse me, sir, I need to take this.”
The President watched as Brognola took the call. The expression on the big Fed’s face told America’s leader he wasn’t being delivered good news.
“I need to get back to Stony Man, Mr. President. This is hotting up already.”
“Then get out of here, Hal, and good luck.”
Minutes later Brognola was leaving Camp David. Jack Grimaldi, who had been entertained by Camp staff while their bosses liaised, powered the chopper into the bright, cold sky. Stony Man’s ace pilot set course for the Farm.
Stony Man Farm
David McCarter followed his team into the War Room and took his seat next to Barbara Price. The Phoenix Force commander was clutching a chilled bottle of Classic Coke; he still refused to drink the other flavors currently available, claiming they were technically not the real thing. The Briton stuck to his preferences and would not consider changing; that applied to the Player’s cigarettes he occasionally enjoyed and his beloved 9 mm Browning Hi-Power pistol.
He glanced at the manila folder Price, the Farm’s mission controller, had placed in front of him. He idly scrolled through the pages without comment as the War Room filled up with the Able Team and Hal Brognola, who had arrived at the Farm only minutes ago. Aaron Kurtzman, clutching a steaming mug of his deadly coffee brew, rolled up to the table in his wheelchair.
Five men comprised Phoenix Force, all experienced warriors who carried a long list of credentials that enabled them to face any odds put in their way. McCarter, who had inherited the mantle of leader from the late Yakov Katzenelenbogen, led his team by example.
With a legendary background that included the SAS, McCarter was an accomplished combat veteran and a noted brawler. He could handle aircraft as well as wheeled vehicles and was proficient with most any kind of weapon he could get his hands on. The man had an infectious sense of humor that often got him looked at sideways, but there was not a better man to have at your side in a firefight. He had a reputation for taking chances and ignoring the rules, but McCarter had long ago decided that in the middle of an armed conflict, where the saving of his skin and that of his partners was involved, anything went. He was ultimately proved right.
Some would label him reckless, but the Briton saw breaking the rules mattered if it led to ultimate victory. His manner got him into trouble on more than one occasion, but that did not worry him in the slightest. McCarter had a tough hide, and verbal barbs bounced off him, though after becoming leader of Phoenix Force he had made an effort to temper his impetuous nature.
His team trusted his instincts, and it was a given they would follow him to the gates of Hell to face the Devil if asked. The connection was often close to the truth. The violent savages they had to face were often close to being the mortal equivalent of Satan. McCarter was more than satisfied with the people who backed him.
Calvin James, a tall, lean black man, was the team’s resident medic. James was good-looking, wore a thin moustache and had an easy way with the ladies. As well as being handy when it came to saving lives, James was also a ferocious fighter. Coming from the south side of Chicago had given James a taste of the tough life. He had enlisted in the US Navy at seventeen, and his natural skills and dedication had brought him to the attention of the SEALs. After his service, he had become a cop in San Francisco and it was while on SWAT duty that he had been approached and recruited into Phoenix Force. He might have been a little unsure at the outset, but he now admitted it was the best thing he had ever done.
An expert demolitions man and sniper, Canadian Gary Manning had been a time-served RCMP operative and had spent time with GSG-9, which had given him detailed insight in global terrorist organizations—something he still kept up to date on. He had been a security consultant for an American company and had come to the notice of Brognola’s Special Operations Group. Manning, a powerfully built man with superb reflexes and a no-nonsense attitude, took to the closeness of Phoenix Force quickly. He was a fast thinker and maintained a tolerant attitude toward McCarter’s brashness, even though they engaged in deliberate banter at times. Over the years both men had come to respect each other.
To Rafael Encizo, a Cuban, Phoenix Force had become his family after losing most of his natural one. His experiences back in his home country, including his incarceration in a Cuban political prison from which he eventually escaped, had left Encizo with little to fall back on and a problem with trust. That was before he became a member of the team and found lasting friendship with his adopted country, having taken on citizenship, and with the men of Phoenix Force. The powerfully built commando had excellent reflexes and was a noted martial arts expert.
For Thomas Jackson Hawkins, Phoenix Force had turned out to be the best move of his life. The youngest member of the group, T.J. was also its newest recruit. Born in Georgia, he was raised in the Lone Star State and staunchly considered himself as Texan as the Alamo. After graduating high school, Hawkins joined the Army. After successfully completing Basic, he volunteered for Airborne and was later trained by the Rangers and detailed to the 75th Ranger Regiment. Years later, he moved on to Delta Force.
Following the divisive resolution of Operation Restore Hope, where Hawkins and twelve others of his Delta Force unit successfully secured a Somali village from a small-time warlord, he resigned his commission. News of his actions during that assignment had reached the ears of Hal Brognola, and he offered Hawkins a position with the SOG. “Hawk” to his friends, his genius with electronic communications and airborne ops made him a vital member of the SOG team.
The talents and skills each man brought to the table made Phoenix Force