War Tides. Don Pendleton

bidder in trade for nuclear material. That would permit them to create dirty bombs or even begin exploring techniques for manufacturing nuclear fission devices. We can’t let that happen.”

      “No argument there,” Schwarz said.

      “So what’s the mission?” Lyons asked.

      “You’ll be posing as FBI agents attached to Homeland Security,” Price answered. “You are to learn everything you can about the incident this morning, pick up the trail of its perpetrators and follow that wherever it leads you.”

      “And if we find out it is terrorists?” Lyons asked.

      “Then you have carte blanche to do whatever needs to be done to neutralize the threat,” Brognola replied. “The only caveat is that if you can’t recover the plans for the prototype, then you’re to destroy them and anyone who’s laid eyes on them.”

      THE THREE MEN of Able Team had understood that order, and the potential consequences that might come from having to execute it. While they weren’t exactly keen on involving potentially innocent bystanders, they understood that the mission went well beyond the standard “terminate with extreme prejudice” clause. They were dealing with a critical threat: the potential of the design of a nuclear-powered and nuclear-armed warship that could be turned against the entire free world. So it didn’t exactly come as a comfort when Lyons heard the news from Blancanales and Schwarz that they weren’t any closer to identifying the enemy.

      Before they could engage in any further discussion, a uniformed police officer approached them. “Are you guys with that Homeland Security task force?”

      “Maybe,” Lyons replied.

      “Well, if you are, there’s a guy from the D.C. traffic safety department in that big truck over there.” The officer pointed to a large white panel truck parked just beyond the yellow police tape used to cordon the area. “Says he wants to talk to somebody from the FBI.”

      “That would be us,” Blancanales said with a smile at his two cohorts.

      Able Team accompanied the officer to the panel truck and ascended the makeshift steps leading into the back. As they crowded inside, one of the two technicians wearing headphones and seated in front of several small monitors took the earpieces from his head and smiled.

      “Morning, boys,” he said, extending a hand to shake each of theirs. “The name’s Grant. I’m a technician with the TSD and I think I have something you can use.”

      With that, Grant turned in his seat and began to run some type of video on the monitor as the three men leaned closer. “Late last year,” Grant said, “the city implemented a new traffic safety program. Basically, we had an increase of traffic accidents at intersections so we put in a camera system at those areas with the highest numbers of incidents. That intersection out there was one of them.”

      “Don’t tell me,” Lyons said. “You got all this on video?”

      Grant shook his head. “No, not all of it but a small snippet—about twelve seconds to be exact. You see, the cameras are timed to take a picture any time a vehicle runs a red light or is detected speeding through an intersection. However, we also capture a video of the infraction because as soon as the light turns yellow, the system is set up to start performing a digital capture. It’s not admissible in court, but it does help the officers reviewing the photographs to make a positive determination as to whether on infraction actually occurred.”

      “That’s all fascinating, pal,” Lyons said. “But we’re not really interested in what is or isn’t admissible in court.”

      Blancanales obviously saw the potential for conflict and immediately stepped in with a pleasant chuckle. “Pay no attention to him, Grant. He’s always grumpy when he doesn’t get breakfast. I think what you’re trying to say is that you didn’t get the entire incident but did get about twelve seconds of it.”

      Grant nodded enthusiastically, obviously not offended by Lyons’s brusqueness. “Yeah, it looks like whoever made that mess out there was too occupied to realize they were getting caught on candid camera.”

      The Able Team warriors turned their focus to the video and watched with fascination as men in camouflage fatigues and black hoods with red bands burst from the back of a van. Fortunately, not only did they now have a description of the aggressors, but also the license plate shone clearly enough that they would likely be able to run a trace. After watching the twelve-second segment a couple of times, the trio exchanged knowing glances.

      “Has anybody else seen this yet?” Lyons asked Grant.

      The technician shook his head. “Nope, you’re the first.”

      “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

      “Do you have a secure feed-transfer capability on this video?” Schwarz asked.

      Grant smiled. “Of course!”

      Schwarz then looked at his teammates and said, “Well, ain’t that just dandy.”

      WITHIN AN HOUR of transferring the video segment to Aaron Kurtzman and his team of cybernetics wizards, Able Team was headed for an address on the south side of Washington, D.C. As Blancanales drove, Lyons and Schwarz rode in back of the specially equipped van that sported the latest technology in surveillance, electronic countermeasures and communications. They were engaged with Brognola and Price in a video conference facilitated by Stony Man’s dedicated satellite uplink systems.

      “We think we finally know who the assailants are,” Price announced. “They call themselves the IUA, short for the Intiqam-ut-Allah.”

      “Never heard of them,” Lyons replied.

      “Loosely translated, the name means ‘the Revenge of Allah,’” Brognola offered helpfully.

      “They’re a relatively new group, a radical cell that grew up from al Qaeda and finally split off when their numbers got large enough,” Price continued.

      Schwarz snorted. “Oh, as if al Qaeda wasn’t radical enough.”

      “What’s their angle, this IUA?” Lyons asked.

      Price replied. “Murder, mayhem and terror wherever they can spread it.”

      “In other words, the usual.”

      “Yes. They are fundamentally an Islamic extremist group, interested only in the conversion of all peoples to their religion. Anyone not willing to convert ends up on the shortlist for termination and especially us heathen, capitalist dogs here in the United States.”

      “Any idea how many we could be dealing with?”

      “Not yet,” Brognola said. “This particular group hasn’t taken a whole lot of credit for terrorist acts around the world, which is interesting only due to the fact there are some significant incidents recently attributed to them by world opinion. They were especially prolific in Pakistan, India and some African countries. But their biggest impact has been recent events in Iraq. They have even taken on those terrorist groups with very similar platforms.”

      “That’s odd,” Schwarz remarked.

      “Yes, we thought so, too,” Price said. “But our intelligence, while scant, is pretty accurate.”

      “Doesn’t sound like they play well with others,” Lyons said.

      “Whatever the case, you’re to proceed with all haste but extreme caution. Understood?”

      “Gotcha,” Lyons said.

      “Jawohl!” Schwarz said.

      “Muy bueno!” Blancanales added from the driver’s seat.

      Price pursed her lips and shook her head with resignation before signing off.

      “I don’t think she’s much on our sense of humor,” Schwarz said.

      “Speak for yourself,” Lyons