or better than the rest of them, the Council had been his idea and so in that light he did act as a chair, of sorts. It was more of a figurehead title than much else, and Amocacci had never really taken to it, figuring more that it just gave all the rest of them someone to blame when things went wrong.
“I hope you weren’t detained by bad news,” replied a voice with a cultured but clipped British accent.
Amocacci let his gaze rest on the SIS case officer for Bulgaria, Hurley Willham. A former member of the British SAS and later a military intelligence analyst, Willham was known for his unique affiliations with agents from intelligence services. He had connections on most every continent. In fact, it was Willham who had approached a number of American agents with a proposition to join the Council, but all of them had turned him down. Still, Willham had managed to recruit the chief Israeli representative on the Council, Lev Penzak of the Mossad.
“I wish I could answer in the negative, Hurley, but unfortunately I can’t,” Amocacci said. “All three of our test operations went off without any problems. But...it would seem our potential contact in America fucked up.”
Penzak, a fifty-eight-year-old man with a big nose, square jaw, wild gray hair and deep brown eyes, shook his head. “I’m not sure it’s appropriate to refer to him as ‘our’ contact, Gastone.”
“We share everything, don’t we?” Amocacci replied easily with a wave. “Anyway, I’ve managed to mitigate the circumstances in our favor. Our operation in Colorado has been discovered, but it’s of no consequence.”
“No consequence?” Willham inquired, one eyebrow arching studiously. “And what leads you to draw such a conclusion? The Colorado base provided us with the only way to intercept information on U.S. special operations. Without it—”
“We are no worse off,” cut in Quon Ma, a countersurveillance expert with the MSS. Amocacci and the rest of the group knew the least about Ma— something Amocacci assumed to be much by design—who had served in a number of high-ranking positions. Ma seemed almost apolitical in his views, but he was behind the Council a hundred percent and utterly trustworthy.
“You think not?” Willham asked.
Ma saw the bait his British counterpart dangled for what it was, but he took it anyway. “I do. There was no guarantee the secrecy of that operation would hold. I’m surprised it lasted as long as it did, and for this, Gastone is to be commended. However, I also think this American Air Force officer...Shoup, is it? He’s become a liability we could do without. It’s too early in the program to risk exposure.”
“I’m forced to agree with Ma,” Penzak stated. “Shoup has to go.”
“I think it can be arranged,” Amocacci replied, managing to keep the disdain from his tone.
It wouldn’t do to be disrespectful to rebut the members of the Council. They had proved to be his greatest allies and to alienate them over such a trifle issue would have been a stroke of lunacy on Amocacci’s part, no matter how strongly he might disagree with them. Shoup had nearly blown it, but now he had to tell them of this other matter.
“I’m bothered by the fact that there’s another player who has inserted himself into the game now. His name is Colonel Brandon Stone and he’s an officer with American military intelligence.”
“Bah!” Ryzkhov cut in with a wave. “Complete fabrication...cover name, most likely.”
“What makes you think so?” Amocacci said. “Even Shoup couldn’t verify any falsehoods in his story.”
“Would this Stone be the same man who singlehandedly brought down our, er...I meant to say the Colorado operation?” Willham inquired.
Amocacci nodded.
“That’s very interesting,” Willham said.
“How so?” Penzak asked.
“Well, it would seem that something of that nature would have gone to the FBI, or even the Department of Homeland Security. For anyone to turn over such a potential threat to one officer in the DIA, even a colonel, sounds a bit out of step for U.S. intelligence efforts. After all, they know there’s a problem within the military intelligence circles.”
“Or at least they suspect it,” Ryzkhov said in an uncharacteristically agreeable tone. “So it wouldn’t make sense for them to send in someone from a potential pool of suspects. They’d go to the outside.”
“And so they probably have,” Ma said, inspecting his fingernails. “Clearly, this Stone isn’t whoever he wants to appear to be. I’d vote he be eliminated along with Shoup.”
“Listen,” Amocacci said. “Killing an American military officer is already going to draw significant attention. Killing two would bring down every American agency on us. It’s too risky. I can’t urge you enough to reconsider.”
“There may be another way,” Penzak said. He looked at Amocacci. “Didn’t you say you’d planned to send them on a wild-goose chase to Guatemala?”
“That is correct.”
“Well, then, why not turn the Islamic Brotherhood on to that fact? We know they’re operating in Guatemala, and to score such a victory against the Americans would do their cause well. Nobody would question it if an American special operation in a foreign country met with a few dead military officers.”
Willham nodded enthusiastically. “Not to mention those bloody wimps at the Pentagon would never let something like that go public. It would be too humiliating for them.”
“It might be able to get done,” Amocacci said. “The trouble is I have no contacts with the Islamic extremists in that part of the world.”
“I think I can help with that,” Penzak said. “With one phone call.”
Even as nods of approval commenced around the table, Amocacci couldn’t help but feel a twinge of doubt.
Tyndall AFB, Florida
“I DON’T LIKE him,” Mack Bolan announced.
“Who?” Grimaldi asked.
“Major Shoup. He just rubs me wrong.”
Grimaldi looked stoic. “You think he’s lying?”
“I think he might be,” the Executioner replied. “Whatever else, I’m going to have to watch my back every second. Or I could wind up with a knife in it right when I’m not looking.”
“So maybe going to Guatemala with him and his team isn’t such a wise thing.”
They sat in the VIP quarters at the base with an array of weapons disassembled on the small, simple table in front of them along with a cleaning kit for various calibers. Bolan ruminated as he worked mechanically on his deadly hardware. “I’m really only going for the lift.”
“I could give you that, Sarge.”
“You will.” Bolan winked at his friend. “In a way.”
“Meaning?”
“You’re going to take the jet down on your
