MAC WALKER'S BENGHAZI: The Complete Collection (12 page)

Tilley’s mind swirled with questions. He had always considered Mardian a very powerful person. Who or what could have him so spooked?

“What is that compound you have my team watching? Is it some kind of diplomatic site? A location just outside the city to allow off the record meetings between U.S. officials and local tribal groups?”

Mardian’s eyes remained lowered, sweat now beginning to pool just above his brows.

“Something like that. As far as I know, but also what you’ve already been told. There’s an allegation of some gunrunning going on, you know, people trying to make a quick buck. That’s how it was presented to me at first. Keep an eye on them, try to confirm weapons transfers. No big deal really.”

Tilley shook his head.

“Bullshit Mardian. C’mon, you don’t send someone like Mac Walker and his team to look through a pair of fucking binoculars. And what about the sniper rifles we left them? Those just for surveillance too? Hell no. This thing reeks of a kill order. The question is, who are we supposed to kill – and why?”

Mardian raised his eyes to look back at Tilley.

“I don’t have those answers.”

Tilley’s voice rose in anger.

“Stop fucking lying to me Mardian! That’s what’s got you so scared right now. You know who the kill order is for, don’t you? You just found out. They sent us over there without that information, so that my team would have no fucking choice but to carry out the assignment, or they don’t get back home. That means it’s a big deal. Whoever we are supposed to take out, it’s not some Muslim radical. It’s not some corrupt Libyan official. This person is one of ours. They’re American, and they must be connected. So you tell me who it is, and why.”

The corner of Mardian’s mouth was trembling slightly as a droplet of sweat fell from his brow and onto his desk.

“I don’t know. It’s not confirmed. And there is no kill order Tilley. Not yet. Your team is doing surveillance – that’s it.”

“Why Mac Walker? Why his team? Can you at least tell me that, Mardian?”

Stephen Mardian wiped his brow with his right hand as he sat up in his chair.

“Because they get things done. That’s it. No big mystery. They take an assignment and they go out and do it. No questions.”

Mardian’s description of why Mac was chosen for the assignment was the same description given to him by the general – because Mac and his team handled things efficiently and without question, without concern over moral conflicts. That meant such a conflict, as Tilley had already suspected, was most certainly on its way.

“So that’s it – you’re not going to tell me more?”

Mardian shook his head, his usual contempt for anyone who questioned him returning.

“I’ll let you know what you need to know Tilley. No more. That’s how it’s always worked. As soon as I have something I need to tell you, I will. In the meantime, don’t call me, and sure as hell don’t show up here. Got it?”

Tilley stood up and began walking out of Mardian’s office. He gave his answer without looking back.

“Fuck you Mardian.”

During the drive back home Tilley’s phone rang. It was the general.

“Hello Mr. Tilley. I went ahead and made a few calls on what may or may not be going on in Benghazi these days. You have a minute?”

Tilley pulled the car over to the side of the road.

“Yes sir – go ahead.”

“Well…there is a ton of CIA activity down there. Now what’s interesting to me is that there’s little of that kind of activity in Tripoli, which normally you would think that’s where all the acronyms would be running around. Not so. Benghazi has CIA, NSA, British intelligence, Italian intelligence, the Russians and Chinese have people on the ground there, Turkey, the Saudis, and perhaps most interesting, a significant uptick in U.N. SitCen activity around there.”

Tilley wasn’t sure what the general was referring to when he mentioned SitCen.

“Sir, what is the U.N.’s SitCen?”

The general cleared his throat. Tilley could tell the retired military man was enjoying this cloak and dagger stuff.

“Their Situation Center. It was developed in the 1990’s. It coordinates with all of the intelligence agencies in the world, at least all the major ones. They have what are called Information and Research officers who work within the SitCen. These people have access to…well to everywhere. And right now, they are crawling all over Benghazi apparently. Not Tripoli – Benghazi.”

“Why?”

General Vannatter paused for a moment before answering.

“Don’t know that Mr. Tilley. Wish I did, because it sure does seem peculiar. Now something I forgot to mention regarding SitCen and what they do. What they are probably doing in Benghazi. One of their primary directives, especially in more recent years, is monitoring arms trafficking throughout the world.”

Tilley was nodding his head as he sat in his car, the sound of passing vehicles threatening to drown out the general’s words.

“Ok – yeah. That makes sense, because that’s what my team is doing in Benghazi. At least that’s what I’ve been told. They’re monitoring potential arms dealing. Am I missing the significance here?”

The general continued.

“The significance is that, according to my source, the whole department is rampant with people connected to arms dealing. That they aren’t just monitoring weapons distribution, they’re trying to control it. They’re organizing it.”

The concept shocked Tilley – and he didn’t shock easily.

“What? The U.N. is dealing in weapons? Why?”

The general’s tone softened just a bit, as if he was growing tired.

“Well, the way it was put to me was that it was a newer program for…I’m trying to remember how he said it. It was a new program for a New United Nations. Something like that.”

Tilley felt a headache coming on fast. He remembered Dasha Al Marri, when explaining the assignment to Mac, using the exact description of the need for a New United Nations.

“General, could you do me another favor? I’m sorry for the bother sir but…I could use the help.”

The general’s response was immediate and no longer sounded tired.

“Absolutely Mr. Tilley. Whatever you need.”

“It’s a name. Can you have someone run a check on her? The name is Dasha Al Marri.”

Tilley could hear General Vannatter’s breathing quicken.

“Dasha Al Marri? I knew her father. High ranking official in the Dubai government. Oil money – and lots of it. He was a big part of the relationship between Venezuela and the United Arab Emirates. Rumor was that a good chunk of all those Venezuelan oil profits went right back to the Arabs.”

Tilley pressed for more information.

“Anything else you know about her?”

“No, like I said, knew her father. I can have her checked out though. She involved in this Benghazi assignment of yours?”

Tilley glanced in his rearview mirror, believing he saw a car pulling behind him. Nothing was there though.

“Yeah, she’s basically putting up the funds. At least, that’s how I understand it. She’s with the U.N.”

The general chuckled.

“Way we seem to be heading, every man woman and child is going to be answering to the U.N. whether they want to or not.”

Tilley glanced back in his rearview mirror again.

Someone was behind his car.

XV.

“So what’s the plan Mac?”

Mac looked at Benny again, appreciative of how he was working to diffuse the growing animosity with Jack.

“Like you said Benny – we keep our shit together. We watch the compound across the street and report back to Tilley. That’s the assignment. If we get termination orders, then…well, we’ll deal with that when we need to. For now, we’ll just be fucking house sitters.”

Benny looked over at Jack, who continued to glare back at Mac.

“That sound ok with you Alabama?”

Jack raised himself up to his full height of six foot three and inhaled deeply while closing his eyes. When his eyes re-opened he shrugged and offered a small smile.

“Yeah – whatever. Like you said, we haven’t been told to kill anyone yet, so at this point, we’re just doing surveillance. If they want to pay us for that, then that’s fine by me. I don’t believe for a second that’s what this is about, but for now, that’s what this is about, so fuck it.”

Mac heard a shrill whistle coming from upstairs. It was Minnick signaling them.

Jack grabbed one of the sniper rifles and bounded upstairs, taking the steps three at a time as Mac and Benny followed close behind. They arrived in the upstairs bedroom where Minnick remained watching the compound from the balcony through one of the pairs of military grade high powered binoculars as he described what he was seeing.

“More vehicles entering the compound. Three large transport trucks, all with United Nations Food Relief identifications on them. There’s an unmarked black sedan in the front and another one in the back. Drivers of the transport trucks appear to be Middle Eastern, possibly Libyan, the drivers of the sedans are white. All the vehicles are now parked in front of the compound entrance. There’s at least nine or ten individuals moving around the facility. They appear to be unloading crates. Can’t quite make out the identification on the crates, but I think they’re the same United Nations Food Relief emblems that are on the transport trucks.”

Mac stepped next to Minnick who then handed him another pair of binoculars. Looking through them, he was able to confirm what Minnick had just reported. Mac paid particular attention to the three white men who he assumed had emerged from the unmarked black sedans.

“Those guys are definitely some of ours. Possibly CIA. Were there three or four who came out of the sedans?”

Minnick lowered his binoculars and rubbed his eyes.

“Four. The other one went inside the main house of the compound.”

Mac focused the binoculars on the main house entrance, waiting to see who would walk out. He was rewarded moments later with the figure of Mark Densmore bounding down the stone entrance steps – the same man they had seen outside Ella’s building in Benghazi. A man Mac last knew to be an FBI agent.

Walking alongside Densmore was a well dressed white man who appeared to be in his late forties. He was of slight build, but moved gracefully, and with purpose. It was the movement one acquires from certain training. Movement Mac most often associated with CIA. Minnick was thinking the same thing.

“The guy on the left reeks of CIA Mac.”

Mac lowered his binoculars and stepped back into the bedroom.

“Yeah, he sure does. The other one he’s walking next to is a guy named Mark Densmore. Last I knew of him, he was FBI. He was at the little riot of ours in Benghazi. One of them who pulled up in the SUVs.”

Benny stepped onto the balcony, grabbing Mac’s binoculars as he did so.

“And you say he’s FBI? Did you tell Tilley about him?”

Mac nodded as his mind worked out the possible scenarios of what was going on in that compound across the road. The food relief trucks were clearly a ruse. The chances of them carrying weapons would seem likely. The CIA’s involvement was not so surprising either. Shifting weapons around the globe was not uncommon for that organization as they worked to topple one regime and build up another. It was Densmore’s presence in Benghazi that Mac found most odd.

“Yeah, I told Tilley. He said he’d get back to me on it.”

Minnick’s hand motioned to Mac.

“Gonna want to see this. Mr. CIA and the other guy are having words.”

Mac moved quickly back to the balcony as Minnick handed him his binoculars. Just as described, Mark Densmore and the other man who they believed to be CIA were nearly nose to nose at the bottom of the main house steps. Mac noted how it was Densmore who appeared to be the more dominant presence, and he was soon proven correct as the other man stepped back and lowered his head, clearly communicating a more passive position.

“Looks like Densmore’s in charge over there.”

Benny, who was also watching the brief altercation between the two men, concurred.

“No doubt about that.”

The sedans and transport trucks were already making their way back out of the compound, pulling out onto the road at considerable speed. Mac focused his binoculars on Densmore, who sat in the passenger seat of the trailing black sedan. As Mac did so, Densmore’s head turned and he appeared to be looking directly back at Mac through the vehicle’s passenger window. The distance between them was nearly three hundred yards apart, so Mac knew the other man couldn’t actually see him, but Densmore continued to stare at Mac’s location on the safe house balcony.

Benny lowered his binoculars and glanced at Mac.

“You see that? He was looking right at us. He knows we’re here.”

Mac knew Benny was right. Though he may not have been able to see them clearly, Mark Densmore just sent them a message. He knew the compound was being watched and he just let them know he knew.