Terminal Guidance. Don Pendleton

the drone will be disassembled and packed into protective crates for the journey to Pakistan,” Qazi said. “The control module will also be packed. You will not see it again until you arrive in the country yourself. Between now and the end of your journey you will have learned everything needed to make the drone fly to the targets we designate. Fazeel, you have been chosen because your computer skills are excellent. You understand, and you have the intellect to make the Barracuda do whatever you want.”

      “I won’t let you down, brother,” he said. “Or the colonel.”

      “We will find you a quiet, safe place where you can concentrate on your studies. Ahmad and Shiran will stay with you and see you are provided for. Now, is there anything you need to help with your studies?”

      “Writing pads and pens. Most importantly a top-of-the-range laptop computer. It must have a large-capacity hard drive. USB connections. And a number of flash drives, again with large storage capacities.”

      Qazi nodded. “All these things will be provided. Anything you require. The colonel has ordered that you must have the best.”

      Fazeel found it hard to conceal his rising excitement. He stared at the UAV, understanding that he alone would control this machine. Make it carry out the tasks asked of him. It was a great responsibility. Only for a second did he feel inadequate to the task. The feeling quickly vanished. The colonel had entrusted him with the operation. It was a great honor. He would not let Rahman down. He would prove his worth. To the cause and to himself.

      Gwadar Port, Balochistan, Southwest Pakistan

      “THE CARGO HAS ARRIVED, Colonel,” the caller said. “The freighter docked last night. The goods are being unloaded even as we speak.”

      “All in good order?”

      “Yes, Colonel. The voyage was without incident.”

      “And the freight aircraft?”

      “Ready at the airfield. It will take off once the cargo is on board.”

      “Good news indeed. Once it arrives we can step up the operation.”

      CHAPTER ONE

      The White House, Washington, D.C.

      The President of the United States waited in uneasy silence while Hal Brognola read through the assembled data. The two men were alone in the Oval Office. The President had made it known he was not to be disturbed for any reason less than the imminent outbreak of total war.

      Hal Brognola, director of the Stony Man SOG organization, was aware of the other man’s close scrutiny. He did not allow it to intimidate him. He read the file, absorbing much of the detailed information as he went through it. Later he would reread and assimilate the data so he could assign his people to the operations that would follow. Now he needed talking points he could discuss with the President.

      Brognola laid the file back on the desk.

      “And you want Stony Man to take this on board why?”

      The President kept a straight face. Brognola’s response might have been judged a little out of order, but the President understood the big Fed’s question. He knew how Brognola worked—always direct, respectful to his commander in chief, but wanting specifics when it came to committing his teams to the field.

      “The U.S. is on a high wire where Pakistan is concerned. Trying to keep the administration on our side as an ally and at the same time keeping a watchful eye on elements in the country who would like nothing better than to see us kicked out. The extremists see the U.S. as opportunists with an eye on the main chance. Plenty of people over there simply don’t like us. Don’t like what we stand for, and see America as an imperialistic nation that wants Pakistan as just another stepping stone in a long-term plan to subjugate their corner of the world.

      “That’s not the way we see things, Hal. Yes, we have an interest in the country and the area. I don’t see our involvement as anything but prudent, given how the extremists want al Qaeda and the Taliban to gain a greater foothold in the region. I see our obligation to the Pakistani president clearly. He’s doing what he can to hold things down, but he has people in his administration who are sympathetic to the extremists. And we know only too well how dedicated these extremists are.”

      The President tapped the file on the desk. “These assassinations are an undeclared act of aggression against the U.S.A. There has been an internet posting stating that the killings are just to show us we can be hurt wherever we are. That the U.S. and its rabid allies have no protection from the followers of Allah. The details they put in the postings reveal they had in-depth information on the people murdered. They claim this is only a beginning and suggest what might follow when the curtain goes up. This group is taunting us, letting us know they can hit us when and where they like. They warn of a larger terrorist strike both here and in Pakistan. That’s worrying, Hal. We need to act. Our people have been killed because they were, according to their reports, starting to get information on the extremists. It saddens me to admit that we might have a traitor in the ranks.

      “The U.S. has allies in the war against terrorism. We’re not on our own. There are deep ties to other security agencies across the globe. Europe. The U.K. Information passes back and forth. Links are formed between departments. There are multiagency teams. I don’t need to tell you how it works, Hal, but the fact that delicate information reached the assassination team suggests they were fed by a source inside our combined agencies. If there is a mole somewhere in our ranks it’s going to make any decisions we make hard to isolate. I want this handled by Stony Man, Hal, in case we do have someone passing information to the enemy. I can’t hand this over to our security departments knowing sensitive information could be intercepted and used against us. Stony Man is a separate entity, with no allegiance to any other departments here or abroad.”

      The President leaned forward, fixing Brognola with an unflinching stare. “The main reason I want you in on this, Hal, is information I received from a genuine source.” He didn’t elaborate, so Brognola passed, and the President said, “I understand your curiosity about that, but I can’t say anything right now. Just take my word it’s on the level. The asset has warned that the threat of the strikes is real. There will be an attempted strike in Pakistan and on the U.S. mainland. Hal, it’s going to be nuclear. And we have a name. Colonel Jabir Rahman.”

      The President sat upright, fixing his gaze on Brognola. “That a good enough reason for you to bring Stony Man in?”

      “Good enough, Mr. President.”

      War room

       Stony Man Farm

      AROUND THE CONFERENCE room table sat the members of Phoenix Force and Able Team, along with the cyber group under the leadership of Aaron Kurtzman. Hal Brognola and Barbara Price sat at the head of the table. Once the general banter had been exhausted, everyone settled down for the mission agenda. First up was the youngest member of Aaron Kurtzman’s team, Akira Tokaido.

      “We didn’t have a great deal to work with,” he said. “The information Hal handed us was based on existing data from various agency reports, so we used that to feed our own files and search for links.”

      He used a handheld remote to pull images onto the plasma monitors ranged around the War Room walls.

      “This is Colonel Jabir Rahman, the guy whose name keeps cropping up when we dig. A Pakistani military guy with diplomatic credentials. The man does not like the U.S. Outspoken in his criticism of American policy and our involvement in the region, he is also not much of a fan of the Pakistani administration. He’s been in any number of confrontations with the Pakistani president. Rahman has a lot of influence with extremist groups, sections of the military and sympathizers among the general public.”

      The image on the monitor showed a man in his late thirties, uniformed and with an erect military bearing. Rahman would have been called handsome by women. His features were strong, his eyes dark and penetrating. His black mustache was neatly trimmed, his thick, oiled hair just starting to show streaks of gray. Overall, he displayed an