Choke Point

TWENTY-ONE

Ross was preparing several arguments as to why he and the Ghosts should remain on this mission, not the least of which was because Saif Hamid was involved. Second, Ross planned to remind Mitchell about the SEALs who’d died in Wardak Province and add how the SecDef and National Command Authority had undoubtedly known that the Agency was involved in something borderline illegal in Colombia — and that’s why they wanted the Ghosts involved instead of allowing the CIA’s own paramilitary officers to conduct the rescue. Admittedly, the latter was speculation, but he’d offer that opinion nonetheless.

Ross placed the video call to Mitchell, inserted his earbuds, and to his mild surprise, all of his potential arguments were for naught — because not sixty seconds into the conversation, he realized he would have been preaching to the choir:

‘We IDed one of the dead at the sub dry dock as Juan Marquez, a lieutenant with Los Rastrojos and a liaison between his group and the FARC,’ Mitchell explained. ‘Turns out he used one of his known aliases to do business with Fadakno in Tobruk, but he wasn’t just buying compressors for narcosubs.’

‘Oh, really? So what’s up with Tobruk?’

‘The port might be a distribution hub for Colombian cocaine being smuggled into Europe. Hamid’s group, the Bedayat jadeda, may be using their old al Qaeda contacts to reopen those markets. Obviously we want Hamid, but let’s see how deep the rabbit hole goes. The SecDef and National Command Authority aren’t getting straight answers from Langley, and we’ve been ordered to find out what the hell’s going on out there.’

‘Roger that, sir. Any word on Delgado? He report back in?’

‘Nothing. And even if he does contact the Agency, once again, they’re tight-lipped about everything.’

‘I hope we’re returning the favor and keeping our operations compartmentalized. If Delgado’s gone rogue —’

‘No worries there, Captain. Colonel Evans knows how to deal with them.’

‘Good. Your friend Adamo told me about Hamid’s connections in Afghanistan and the link to Wardak Province.’

‘Hamid’s a scumbag of the highest order, and I can’t think of a better Ghost Team to bring him in.’

Ross made a face. ‘You want him alive?’

‘C’mon, Captain, you’ve been down this road before.’

‘With all due respect, sir, I have. We often assume they have valuable intel, that we need to bring them back alive and question them. Maybe even use creative interrogation techniques. But in the end, most of them don’t know shit, don’t give up shit, and need to be put out with the rest of the garbage. Sir.’

Mitchell paused to consider that. ‘Take him alive. If possible. Terminate his command.’

‘Roger that, sir.’

‘All right then. You and your team will proceed to Tobruk. I’ve contacted Mohammed Darhoub. He’ll meet you at the airport. Darhoub’s from the Transitional National Council, their military council rep. I’ve worked with him before. He’s a good guy. He’s already offered a platoon of NLA troops.’

‘NLA? Is that the National Liberation Army?’

‘Exactly. They’re the guys who took over after Gaddafi’s army fell. Most of them come from the original Free Libyan Army, and I’d say more than half of them are officers who defected from Gaddafi’s forces. I wouldn’t say they’re the highest-caliber operators, but they’ve got courage in spades. Trust me on that.’

‘I will, sir.’

‘And oh, yes, in regard to the Fadakno Company. They’re an Iranian distributor/wholesaler of valves, flanges, fittings and pipes to the Tobruk Refinery. Their home office is in Tehran.’

‘So Hamid is supported by the Iranians?’

‘We can’t confirm that. The office may be just a front for his operations, and he might’ve bribed the management team, leaving the Iranian government out of it. That’s what I’d do if I were him. Bringing in the Iranians and the Quds Force opens him to security leaks.’

Ross nodded.

Mitchell went on: ‘The Tobruk office includes two large warehouses out near the piers. The place is manned by five employees who may or may not be aware of Hamid’s operations. Darhoub sent a few men over there, and they’ll keep a safe distance for now. He just called to say there’s been no unusual activity thus far, just the regular trucks coming to and from the airport, along with cargo being loaded on to ships. They could be smuggling cocaine right now.’

‘That’s good. Maybe they haven’t been tipped off, which means we’ll need to move quickly.’

‘And we will. I also called the ISA for HUMINT and SIGINT support.’

Mitchell was referring to the United States Army Intelligence Support Activity (aka ‘The Activity’ or ISA), an Army Spec Ops unit that gathered actionable human and signals intelligence in advance of operations like theirs. They worked for both the regular Special Forces like the Rangers, Delta Force, and SEALs, as well as the GST. They changed their code name every two years, and currently they were known as WOLF’S EAR. Anyone who’d ever worked with them would confirm that they were the unsung heroes of countless operations, providing crucial information and pathfinding in some of the most hostile regions on the planet. They were, arguably, the most underrated, least known group within the Army.

‘I’ll take all the help I can get,’ Ross told the major.

‘Good. I’ll have transport waiting for you in Bogotá.’

‘We won’t be late.’

‘If there’s any change, I’ll update you ASAP. Try to get some sleep.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘And Captain, one more thing. I almost forgot to ask. How’re you getting along with your new team?’

Ross smiled thinly and stole a look at 30K, who was concentrating on the road. ‘These guys are top-notch. Proud to be here, sir.’

Mitchell cocked a brow and scrutinized Ross, who finally crumbled under the major’s gaze:

‘All right, sir. They don’t hate me that much. But honestly, like I told you, this is exactly what I need.’

‘Very well then. Good hunting, Captain.’

Ross ended the video call and glanced over at 30K. ‘Hal tatakallam al-lughah al-’arabīyah?’

‘Of course I speak Arabic,’ 30K answered in English. He then rambled on in what he called ‘the ancient tongue,’ talking about the weather, the long drive, and even demonstrated that he knew a long list of curse words and vulgar expressions, laughing through them. The GST’s language school and his twisted sense of humor had not failed him, he said.

‘Good man,’ Ross told him. He let his head fall back on the seat. ‘I’ll be glad to get out of this rain.’