Echo Six: Black Ops 5 - Strikeforce Syria (6 page)

"We're all on your side," he snapped back irritably. "And you may as well know the rest of it, about Benjamin Rothstein. We’re stepbrothers."

The Israeli was open mouthed with shock as he explained his heritage. Brooks’ face was wreathed with concern, and he took Talley to one side.

"He'll have to do stand down from this one, Commander. You know any kind of personal involvement rules him out."

"Not a good idea, Admiral. You know how valuable Sergeant Welland is to the unit. Take him out of the equation, and the risks suddenly get a whole lot bigger. It's quite simple. He’s irreplaceable."

The Israelis looked up sharply as Talley spoke.

"I don't think any of you fully understand," Beckerman murmured quietly. "My specialty inside Mossad is intelligence gathering, and escape and evasion. But Rebecca's skills are rather different.” He looked at the girl. "My colleague’s specialty is assassination, and she is one of the best. Of course we want to recover Rothstein and return him to Israel. But if it is not possible, Rebecca will implement the alternative."

Talley stared at Beckerman, and then at the girl, a beauty, sure, but a poisonous beauty. Killing was the last resort, not the first. But right how, the problem was Guy.

"You intend to kill my brother?" His voice was low and angry.

"Brother? You said he’s your stepbrother.”

"What the fuck difference does it make?" he slammed back at her. "You don't send an assassin on a hostage rescue mission. Not where I come from. They call it murder!"

Her eyes flashed with fury. "Where you come from is not where I come from, Sergeant Welland. If this man is allowed to assist the Syrians, Israel could cease to exist in days. How do you balance eight million lives against one? Would you allow our people to be murdered to save your brother?"

It was a standoff until Brooks stepped in to calm things down.

"Okay, let's take it easy. It hasn’t come to that option yet, so let’s talk about the operation. How do you plan to get into this place, Sheikh Najjar? What kind of intel do you have?"

Beckerman let out his breath as the tension subsided and picked up a tablet that had been lying unnoticed on the desk. When he switched it on, an aerial view flashed on the screen. The video image moved across slowly, meaning it had come from a low level overhead reconnaissance drone.

"We recently overflew the target site with a small drone. As you can see, the area is large, about ten square kilometers. An analyst from Mossad is looking at the video right now, looking for any indications that point us to the facility. He'll contact us the moment he finds anything."

“Only one analyst? It doesn’t sound much. It’s a big area and time is short.”

He shrugged. “General Weiss had to intervene personally to get that much help.”

There was a silence, as they worked out the implications. Why weren’t the Israelis using their formidable resources to deal with this threat?

“Tell us about it, General. What’s the problem?”

“It’s, er, sensitive.” Weiss flashed a quick glance at Brooks, who kept his face noncommittal.

Talley ignored them. "Okay, let’s move on. How do you prevent the Syrians from shooting it down? Reconnaissance drones are not invisible to a nation equipped with sophisticated anti-aircraft defenses and advanced fighter aircraft."

Beckerman smiled. "It is no ordinary drone. It's a new system we've been working on; a hexacopter, we call it the Albatross. It has eight propellers, powered by lightweight electric motors. The batteries allow it to stay up for an hour. The fuselage is made of a new lightweight polymer that’s almost invisible to radar, and, of course, without gas powered engines, there’s no heat signature for IR detectors. General Weiss runs an agent just outside Aleppo, Mahmoud Khalil, and he lives in the village of Marran. He’s been trying out the system with a view to the Albatross becoming fully operational.”

Talley was aghast. “So these things are untested?”

“Well, no, not quite. So far, they’ve worked well. Mahmoud has had good results. They just haven’t been put into service by the IDF. Not yet.”

He nodded. “Okay, give us the rest of it.”

Why is this entire operation being launched in such a ham-fisted way? It’s not like Admiral Brooks. What’s the problem, what am I missing?

Beckerman went on. “All Mahmoud needs do is launch and recover these devices. In the air, they are fully autonomous, programmed to fly along preprogrammed parameters and then return home, which in this case is Mahmoud’s vehicle repair workshop."

"Even so, they must be easy to spot, flying that low. I imagine your agent is taking one hell of a risk."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. He is only able to launch the craft at night, near dawn, when visibility is poor. By the time they are on station, it is daylight, and we have an hour in which to capture the video feed. He vectors the Albatross to land in an isolated part of the desert and drives out to collect it in the trunk of his vehicle."

"Impressive. How do we get in and out? What’s deal with infil and exfil?"

Beckerman nodded. "You will appreciate that time is short." He looked at Brooks. "Admiral, I believe this is your department."

He nodded. "I’ve arranged for a C-130 to fly just inside the Turkish border with Syria. As you know, Turkey is part of NATO, so they won't object. At one point, the border is only twenty kilometers from Aleppo. You’ll HAHO jump in to the target. We estimate High Altitude High Opening is the way to go. You'll need the height for a long glide into Sheikh Najjar. As for exfil, you can make your way out to the coast. General Weiss has arranged for the Israeli Navy to pick you up."

"Why not cross back into Turkey?" Talley asked. “They’re on our side.”

Brooks grimaced. "They’re our NATO allies, true, but they're damned sensitive when it comes to interference with Syrian affairs. If you hit problems, General Weiss has a backup plan to get you out."

Beckerman took over again. "There are two Black Hawks at your disposal, Commander. They’re currently on training maneuvers, escorted by Boeing AH-64 Apaches. They’ll cross the border to pick you up.”

Talley nodded. It was a hare-brained plan, but what last-minute plan wasn’t full of holes? The plan wasn’t the only problem. Guy was still swapping angry glances with Rebecca Dayan.

Shit!

He turned to Brooks. "When do we leave, Admiral?"

"There's a C-130 on the tarmac, ready for you to embark. Fortunately for us, it was already here. The mechanics found an avionics fault. They’ve fixed it, and it’s all set to go. We’ll time it for you to hit the LZ after dark, so I guess you have about six hours before wheels up." He smiled, "Time enough to catch some shuteye. I guess you guys need it after last night."

Talley felt the exhaustion sweeping over him like a wave. He hadn't slept since before Cairo, and the leg wound didn't help. The constant pain seemed to sap his energy, but he'd manage. He always did. And a few hours sleep would make all the difference. As for Guy and Rebecca, with so many lives under consideration, one life was of small value.

But if he was my brother, or stepbrother? I don't think I can answer that one.

His thoughts ranged over the coming operation
.

Everything’s so flakey, a C-130 that just happened to be on the ground with electronics problems. Yeah, right. Why wasn’t an aircraft assigned to us like normal? Budget cuts or something else?

Brooks called an end to the meeting. He'd give them a detailed briefing an hour before they emplaned on the Hercules. Destination Syria. And the target was Professor Benjamin Rothstein, Guy's stepbrother. It was a crap start to a crap mission. They saluted and started to leave the office, but Brooks called him back.

"Close the door, Talley. There’s something else I have to run past you. Sit down."

Damn. The Admiral’s heart-to-heart chats aren’t anything to look forward to.

"What is it, Admiral?"

Brooks grimaced, and his lined black face looked drawn and anxious. "I'll give it to you in one word. Masterson."

Talley recalled the man, how could he forget? Dwight Masterson, FBI Special-Agent-in-Charge of their Hostage Rescue Team; the man who had vowed to hunt him down like a dog, after he'd ignored his instructions and mounted an assault on a group of kidnappers who were holding his sons. That day he brought Joshua and James home unharmed, and the kidnappers both died during the rescue. But Masterson still held him responsible for the death of a police officer; a cop who’d chanced upon the kidnappers unexpectedly and paid with his life. Talley wasn’t even there when he was killed, but Masterson clearly felt he'd been made to look a fool and was determined to extract revenge.

"What does he want now?"

"In a word, you. He's sworn out a federal warrant. It names you as an accessory to the murder of that deputy. In a nutshell, he wants your head. My people are working to head this off, but it’ll take a few days. In the meantime, we need to keep you out of the hands of the FBI.” He grinned. “Who knows, anything can happen in the next six days."

Talley stared at him. "Like the Syrians may do the job for him?"

Brooks looked irritated. "I didn't hear that. There’ll be some damn solution enough to satisfy him. We just have to find it. It's not as if you didn't give him credit for the hostage rescue. He went back to Washington a hero, although everyone knew what a total washout he'd been. But it's not enough. It never is for people like Masterson. You made him look a fool with his own men."

"He made himself look a fool, Sir. I didn't need to do anything."

Brooks waved a comment away. "Yeah, I know. The first priority is to shut the man up. I don't want your name surfacing in any kind of electronic chatter the Syrians may pick up. I'll talk to Washington about it, maybe put in a word to the Director. It could be Masterson will just accept an apology and withdraw the federal warrant."

"A pity the idiot didn't go in first and get his stupid head blown off."

The Admiral cracked a faint groan. "That would have sorted things out, but it didn't happen, so leave it to me. And Talley…"

"Sir?"

"Until this is resolved, don't set foot in the US. Clear?"

So I can’t go home, not as long as some asshole bureaucrat FBI man wants my ass in a sling. Shit!

"Clear, Sir."

Brooks nodded, apparently satisfied. "Get yourself some sleep. You're going to be busy. And keep those two apart, the Israeli girl and your Sergeant Welland. They looked ready to tear each other to pieces. Dismissed.”

"I'll keep it in mind, Admiral."

* * *

Pasha Jalali waited. He had nothing to fear, although the war against the rebels was going badly. The Minister of Defense had done everything asked of him. He'd pleaded many times with the President to use harsh tactics against the rebels, yet the response had been lukewarm, until now. The call finally came through to his office for him to report immediately to the President. He knew the reason. The rebels were rumored to be on the verge of getting hold of WMDs to renew their offensive. For the first time, they'd be in a position to defeat the regular army of the Syrian Republic. It couldn't be allowed to happen.

"The President will see you now, Minister."

The secretary held open the door for him, and he walked into the office. It was a large room, but simple in its decor and furnishings, matching the no-nonsense approach this President displayed to his people. It was all nonsense, of course. Everyone in a position to know was aware he took his rewards in different ways. Money salted away in Swiss bank accounts, and of course, the heady aphrodisiac of power, the biggest reward of all. He walked forward and stopped.