Acts of War

FIFTEEN

Lowell Coffey II was dozing in the driver's seat of the ROC when the phone rang. He awoke with a jolt, fumbled with the phone for a moment before finding the right button to push, then answered.

"This is the mobile archaeological research center," he said.

"Benedict, it's Carlton Kuhnigit."

Lowell wasn't fully awake. But he was awake enough to recognize Mike Rodgers's voice and to know that his own name wasn't Benedict. In fact, the only Benedict he knew of was Benedict Arnold the traitor, who'd plotted to surrender West Point to the British during the American Revolution. Since Mike Rodgers had zero sense of humor, there had to be a reason he'd referred to him as Benedict. There also had to be a reason that Rodgers had intentionally mispronounced the name of his Carlton Knight pseudonym.

All of this the attorney considered in the instant it took him to reply with a jaunty, "Hi there, Mr. Kuhnigit." At the same time Coffey pressed the record button on the top of the phone cradle. Then he opened the driver's side window and snapped his fingers. Phil Katzen and Mary Rose were eating a chicken they'd bought in the market that morning and had cooked over a campfire. Coffey pointed to them and indicated that they should come in quickly but quietly. They put their paper plates down and hurried over. "How are things going?" Coffey asked.

"Not so well," Rodgers said. "Benny, the colonel and I had this damn accident out here."

"Are you okay?"

"More or less," Rodgers said. "But I want you to tell Captain John Hawkins to pack up and get out here as soon as possible."

Katzen and Mary Rose rushed in.

"I'll tell Captain John Hawkins to do that," Coffey replied. The attorney looked at Mary Rose. He pointed to the computer and wriggled his fingers as though he were typing.

Mary Rose gave him a thumbs-up "got-it" and sat down at the keyboard. She typed in the name.

"Where are you?" Coffey asked. Not that he needed Rodgers to tell him. Coffey would let Mary Rose and the ROC do that. But he wanted to give Rodgers the opportunity to talk, to pass along any other information.

"Have you got map Three P-as-in-perps handy?" Rodgers asked.

"Right here," Coffey said. "Just let me open it up." His mind was speeding. Someone who understood English was obviously listening in, but not someone who spoke colloquial English or knew American history. Otherwise, that person would have known that perps meant perpetrators. The person also would have known who Benedict Arnold was.

So what's he saying? Coffey asked himself. Was Benedict Arnold Colonel Seden? Or did Mike mean that he was being forced to betray the ROC? In any case, there was treason afoot and three people were holding him.

"Ready with the map," Coffey lied.

"Okay," Rodgers said. "We're off the road about a quarter mile after the dirt road begins. There's a hill on the east side of the first rise. See it?"

"Sure do," Coffey replied.

"I'll be waiting for you there."

"You need any medical supplies?" Coffey asked.

"Just a couple of bandages. Also a shot of whiskey for the colonel. I think you better hurry, okay?"

Coffey knew that Rodgers didn't drink. He was guessing that someone had been shot. "I understand, Carlton. We'll be there ASAP." Coffey hesitated. "Are you sure you'll be all right until we get there?"

"I think I'll live, Benny," Rodgers replied.

Coffey hung up and walked toward Katzen. "Okay," he said gravely, "what I got from this is that Mike and the colonel have been caught by three people. They don't speak English very well. Apparently they read his Canton Knight ID and called him Kuhnigit. Sounds like Seden was shot and Mike was forced to call us. And since Mike isn't a swearing man, I'm guessing he mentioned the 'damn' accident for a very specific reason reason."

"Like he stumbled on the guys who blew up the Ataturk," said Katzen, who was standing behind Mary Rose.

"Or they stumbled upon him," Coffey said.

"Here," Mary Rose said. "Captain John Hawkins. According to the database, Hawkins was an English sailor who was ambushed by the Spanish in Vera Cruz in 1568."

Katzen shook his head slowly. "Only Mike Rodgers would know something like that."

Coffey had slipped into Mike Rodgers's seat. He called Op-Center on the secure line built into the computer. "Mary Rose," he said, "Mike told me he's about a quarter mile up the dirt road. Can we get a closer look at that?"

"Right away," she said. It took just over a second to bring up a map of the region. "They were going across the desert to the plains, which puts them right here." She zeroed in on the region where the road began. "Do you have any other information?"

"Yes," Coffey said. "He said that they were at a hill on the east side of the first rise."

"I see it," she said. She called up the computer-simulated relief map. "That's north-south coordinate E, east-west coordinate H. I'll contact the NRO. See if they can get us visuals."

"I'm going to brief Privates Pupshaw and DeVonne in case we have to move out," Katzen said.

Coffey nodded as the seal of the National Crisis Management Center appeared on the screen — the organization's formal name, though no one at Op-Center ever used it. He typed in his personal access code, and a menu appeared offering all the different departments. Coffey selected Office of the Director. A prompt appeared asking him to input the full name of the person with whom he wished to speak, surname first. This procedure helped to screen crank calls from hackers who managed to get this far into the program.

Hood, Paul David

A computerized voice told him to wait a moment. Almost at once, Bugs Benet's face filled the screen.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Coffey," Benet said.

"Bugs, we've got a major situation here," Coffey said. "I need to talk to Paul."

"I'll tell him," Benet said.

Hood was on the secure digital uplink within seconds. "Lowell, what's up?" he asked.

"Paul, we just heard from Mike out in the field," Coffey said. "From the sound of things, he found the terrorists he was searching for. And it looks like they've got him and the TSF colonel as their prisoners."

"Hold on," Hood said. His expression darkened and his voice had dropped considerably. "Let me bring Bob Herbert in on this."

A few seconds later the screen split down the middle. Hood was on the left side, Herbert on the right. The intelligence chief's thinning hair was disheveled. He looked even grimmer than Hood.

"Talk to me, Lowell," Herbert said. "Do you have any idea what these bastards want?"

"Not a clue," Coffey said. "All we're supposed to do is go out there and get Mike and the TSF officer who went with him."

"Out where?" Herbert asked.

"Into the plains," Coffey said.

"Now?" Herbert asked.

"Immediately," Coffey replied. "Mike was pretty explicit about us leaving at once."

"Meaning the guys who are holding them must need a lift out of the area," Herbert said, "possibly out of the country. Maybe that chopper they had was too hot to keep flying."

"Where are they located?" Hood asked.

"About a ninety-minute drive north of here," Coffey said. "Mary Rose is in touch with the NRO to try and get some precise visuals."

"Did Mike put a time limit on how long it should take you to get there?" Herbert asked.

"No," Coffey said.

"Did the captives make any other demands?" Hood asked. "Do you have to bring the ROC?"

"No," Coffey said.

"Is there any indication that they even know about the ROC?" Herbert asked.

"None," said Coffey.

"At least that's something," Hood said.

"Excuse me," Mary Rose said, turning around. "Stephen Viens says he can give us an infrared photo in about two or three minutes. He's still got the 30-45-3 in the neighborhood."

"Bless him," Coffey said. "Paul, Bob, did you hear that?"

"I heard," said Hood.

"Lowell, did Mike say anything else?" Herbert asked.

"Not much," said Coffey. "He didn't seem to be in pain or under duress. He passed all the information along calmly, using oblique references to Benedict Arnold and some old English sea captain who we found out was ambushed. It was clear he was trying to tell us that he was being forced to say what he was saying and that we'd better watch out."

"These jerks'll want hostages," Herbert said. "If we don't fire, chances are they won't either."

"Are you saying that we should give them a ride?" Hood asked.

"I'm just giving you the facts," Herbert said. "If it were up to me I'd shoot the bastards dead. Fortunately, it isn't up to me."

"Are Privates Pupshaw and DeVonne ready to go out?" Hood asked.

"'They were eating when the call came in," Coffey said. "Phil is briefing them now. What do we do about the Turkish government? The TSF will be calling when their man doesn't check in."

"You negotiated our way in there," Hood said. "What are we obliged to tell them?"

"Depends what we decide to do," Coffey said. "If we start shooting we'll be in violation of about twenty different international codes. If we kill anyone, we're in deep doo. If it's a Turk, we're in very deep doo."

"What if we shoot the terrorists who blew up the dam?" Hood asked.

"If we can prove it, and let the TSF share credit, then we'll probably be heroes," Coffey said.

"I'll have Martha get in touch with them," Hood said. "She can brief them and ask them to lay low."

"Lowell," Herbert said, "Mike didn't promise them a certain kind of transportation."

"Not as far as I know."

"Which means if you go out there with the ROC," Herbert continued, "we can follow you even if we don't have satellite imaging. I can listen in through the computer."

"Negative," said Katzen. "I think Mary Rose should lobotomize the hardware."

"I disagree," Herbert said. "That'll leave you defense—"

"Picture about to come in!" Mary Rose said. "NRO should be downloading it to you as well, Paul."

In exactly.8955 seconds, the monitors filled with the same green-tinted photograph showing the site described by Rodgers. Op-Center and the ROC were still voice-linked.

"There they are," Herbert said.

Rodgers was sitting against the motorcycle. It looked as if his hands were tied to the handlebars. His feet were so bound. The TSF officer was lying on his belly, his hands lashed behind him. A third man was sitting on the side of the hill, smoking. There was a submachine gun in his lap.

"They're still alive," Hood said. "Thank God for that."

Katzen, Private Pupshaw, and Private DeVonne entered then. They stood between the two stations and had a look at the photograph.

Coffey leaned toward the screen. "I only see three people."

"Maybe Mike meant that there were only three people altogether," Hood suggested.

"No," Coffey said. "He told me there were three perps. I can play back the tape if you want, but that's what he said."

"The other two could be out on stakeout," Herbert said. "It would make sense for them to have gone ahead and see who comes in. Make sure Mike didn't send for the cavalry or something."

"Even if they're out watching the road," Hood said, "we've got two Strikers they may not know about. If the captors think that Mike was a run-of-the-mill spook, they may not expect an armed escort to come for him. Especially one that knows exactly what they're riding into."

"Which brings us back to whether you take the ROC," Herbert said. "I still think you should leave everything active. Paul?"

Hood thought for a moment. "Phil, you're against it."

"If anything happens to us, we'd be giving them the key to the candy store," Katzen said.

"Lowell?" Hood asked.

"Legally, Paul, we might have problems," Coffey said. "Our geographical playing field was pretty carefully delineated to both the Turks and Congress."

"Jesus!" Herbert yelled. "Mike's being held hostage and you're talking about our legal limitations!"

"There's something else," Katzen said. "The Strikers. If someone's watching the van, they may see them. If we dismantle some of the equipment, we can hide them in the battery compartment."

"The battery compartment," Herbert said. "Privates, how do you feel about that?"

"I like it, sir," Pupshaw said. "We go in completely unseen."

Hood asked if everyone was finished with the photograph. They were. He had the face-to-face visuals restored.

"Okay," Hood said. "We go in and we take the lobotomized ROC. Who runs the operation?"

"We can't call it a military rescue," Coffey said. "We need Congressional approval for that and it'll never come in time. So on the books at least it has to be a civilian pperation."

"Agreed," said Hood. "The Strikers dress-down, weapons handy but hidden: Who runs the operation?"

No one answered. Coffey looked at the three faces on the green-lit screen. "I guess I'm elected," he said unenthusiastically. "I've got seniority."

"By two days over Phil," Herbert said. "Shit, Lowell, you've never fired a gun. At least Phil has."

"To scare away nesting harp seals," Coffey said. "He never shot at anybody. That makes us both virgins."

"Not me," said Mary Rose. "When I was at Columbia I shot once a week at a pistol club on Murray Street in Manhattan. And I once pulled a gun on an intruder who busted into my dorm room. I don't care who goes and who runs this, but I'm going with them."

"Thanks, M.R.," Hood said. "Phil, you did lead some pseudo-military Greenpeace escapades; didn't you?"

"Very pseudo." Katzen grinned. "Shotguns with blanks. I did three in Washington State, two in Florida, two in Canada."

"You feel up to running this?"

"If it has to be done, I'll do it."

"That isn't what I wanted to hear," Hood snapped. "Can you take command of this operation?"

Katzen flushed. "Yes," he said. He looked at the determined faces of Mary Rose and the two Strikers. "Hell, yes, I can do it."

"Good," Hood said. "Lowell, I'd prefer it if you stayed behind. Whatever happens, somebody's going to have to be on-site to smooth things with the Turkish government. You're the best man for that job."

"I won't try to change your mind," Lowell said. He looked at his companions and then looked down. Even though he'd offered to go and been ordered to stay, he felt like a coward. "But in fairness to the mission, let's see how things look when we're ready to roll."

"All right," Hood said. "It'll be your call."

"Thanks ever so much." Coffey frowned.

"You realize, Paul," Herbert said, "that by running even a civilian operation covertly, both Turkey and Congress will be up our butts for a very long time. And that's just if things go right. If they go wrong, we'll all be making license plates for the government."

"I understand," Hood said. "But getting Mike out is my only concern."

"And there's something else," Herbert said. "Our sources in Ankara tell us that the Turkish Presidential Council and Cabinet are meeting now to mobilize the military. They want to prevent any further attacks. The ROC may run into some pretty skittish patrols."

"Once we pull the batteries we'll be limited to eyes and ears," Katzen said. "But we'll keep them open."

"I'll see if Viens can keep a satellite eye on things too," Herbert said.

"Thanks, all of you," Hood said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to phone Senator Fox so she doesn't find out about it from someone in the Ankara bureau of the Washington Post."

Hood clicked off. After saying that he was going to find out what other intelligence agencies had on the dam attack, Herbert also excused himself.

When the ROC team was alone, Katzen rubbed his hands together.

"All right, then," he said. "Mary Rose, would you kindly print out the map? You're going to drive. Sondra, Walter — we three are going to have a strategy session with input from the NRO." He turned and offered Coffey his hand. "As for you, wish us luck and then go finish my chicken for me."

Coffey looked at the four and smiled. "Good luck," he said. "You're really, really going to need it."

"Why is that?" Katzen said.

"Because I can deal with the Turks just as well by phone." He took a long, anxious breath. "I'm coming with you."