Choke Point

THIRTY-EIGHT

Prior to becoming a Ghost, Alicia Diaz had won the Service Rifle category of the National Long Range Rifle Championship at Camp Perry, Ohio, for two years running. Her record on the Ghost’s shooting range for longest bull’s-eye still held, and her reputation and exploits on missions in China and elsewhere with then Captain Scott Mitchell had been analysed and discussed for years after by men like Pepper, 30K and Kozak. Why Ross hadn’t told the team that she, a legendary Ghost now retired, would be getting out of that sedan was a mystery. Maybe the captain didn’t know? Or maybe he didn’t consider that information important?

Pepper sure did.

He couldn’t wait to shake Diaz’s hand, hoping some of her marksmanship would rub off and that she’d offer a tip or two. Share a secret. Let him buy her a drink.

A man must have his dreams.

After leaving the Army, Diaz had taken a position as a paramilitary operations officer with the CIA’s Special Activities Division. She engaged in covert intelligence gathering with people like herself, former Special Forces operators from all branches of the service. Given the team’s most recent ‘encounters’ with her agency, Diaz’s presence was long overdue. Pepper hoped she could shed some light on Delgado’s position, motives and whereabouts, and restore their faith in an agency whose unwillingness to cooperate seemed to be undermining national security (in Pepper’s humble opinion).

Admittedly a little starstruck, Pepper shifted past Ross and was the first to greet the former Ghost. ‘Hello, ma’am. I’m Master Sergeant Robert Bonifacio, but they call me Pepper. I don’t want to sound cheesy, but this is a real honor.’

Diaz had remained fit, only a streak of gray near one temple betraying her age, the rest of her jet-black hair pulled into a ponytail. She could star in a Nike commercial. She looked part embarrassed, part flattered by his comment. ‘Nice to meet you, Pepper.’

‘Let me introduce you to the team. This is Kozak, 30K, and that’s our Ghost lead, Captain Andrew Ross, who used to be a command master chief SEAL. How do you like that?’

Kozak and 30K gave Diaz awkward nods while, behind her, two men dressed business casual and easily mistaken for locals came forward to stand near Takana.

Ross shook Diaz’s hand and said, ‘Ms Diaz, your reputation obviously precedes you.’

‘Thank you, Captain. I’ve had a chance to work with a few of your colleagues, real first-class operators.’

‘I’m sure they are. Now would you mind telling me what the hell is going on?’

Diaz’s grin evaporated, and Pepper, too, was taken aback by Ross’s tone. Pepper wanted to say something, but he’d catch hell for it later.

‘Captain, I understand your frustration.’

‘No, ma’am, you don’t. If I’m going to put my people in harm’s way, I want to know why. If we’re here to clean up your mess, then at least have the decency to admit it.’

‘I promise you, we’ll talk. Right now we’ll take Takana off your hands. Your team rides in the taxi. We’ll begin tracking the arms.’

‘I’m sorry, ma’am, but you didn’t answer my question.’

Diaz moved up to Ross and lowered her voice. ‘Look, as one old Ghost to another, don’t ask that question.’

‘The major told me you’d be an ally.’

‘Langley doesn’t even know I’m here. I owe your boss a few favors. Now, if you and your team will get in my car, we can talk and monitor the shipment at the same time, instead of standing here, choking our chains.’ Diaz whirled and headed back toward her car.

Diaz’s men escorted Takana over to the taxi cab.

Ross jogged over to the taxi to intercept them, and Pepper couldn’t hear that exchange. He headed over to Diaz, who turned back and said, ‘I used to envy your job. Then I had it. Now I’m glad I’m out.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Long story.’

‘Over beers tonight?’

She sighed then looked away. ‘If you’re still here.’

Pepper felt his cheeks warm.

Ross returned and said, ‘Everybody? Let’s roll.’ He faced Pepper. ‘What?’ Then he looked to Diaz. ‘We good?’

‘Yes, Captain. We’re fine.’

Just before they got in the car, Kozak leaned in to Pepper and whispered, ‘I think you got a shot with her. Pun intended, ha-ha.’

‘Shut up, asshole.’

Diaz promised that Takana would be transferred to one of the Agency’s private jets and flown down to Mogadishu’s Aden Adde International Airport. At a facility near there, the CIA ran a counter-terrorism training program for Somali intelligence agents and operatives. The program was aimed at building an indigenous strike force capable of snatch operations and targeted ‘combat’ operations against Islamic militant groups like Bedayat jadeda. When she wasn’t out in the field, Diaz taught classes there.

She had guaranteed that Takana and his family would be protected but said that relocating them would pose some challenges. She’d asked Ross why he was so concerned about helping a drug and weapons smuggler, and he’d just shrugged and said, ‘Good people in bad situations … sometimes they just do bad things. You change the situation, and sometimes you fix the problem.’

‘Be nice if it were that simple,’ she said. ‘I think your faith in Mr Takana might be a little misplaced.’

‘I can’t tell you how many people I’ve met just like him, people caught up in the shit with no way to escape. They don’t even remember how they got there. I haven’t given up hope yet.’

‘Wow, and I thought being cynical and pissed off came with the territory.’

‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Ross warned her. ‘I still feel that way about you … and your people …’

She rolled her eyes.

He glanced out the window. They were headed north toward the port, following a strip of paved road running through rolling desert hills as mottled as tanned leather. 30K drove, with Kozak running shotgun. Ross, Pepper and Diaz were crammed into the backseat. Pepper had made sure to sit next to Diaz, his ‘fascination’ with her schoolboy-obvious and stronger than his resentment for her employers.

‘Looks like they’re still heading toward the port,’ Ross said, studying a map of Sudan with the tracking beacon’s location superimposed with a flashing red dot and data box displaying latitude and longitude. In another window flashed satellite photos of the tractor-trailer as it moved up the highway, passing beneath a broad stone archway.

‘I have another car at the port that’ll pick them up, so no worries, Captain, we have backup,’ said Diaz.

‘Must’ve been something big,’ Ross said.

‘What?’

‘The favor you owe Mitchell.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because you’ve got, what, two teams already helping?’

‘Three, actually. All local informants employed by me, all unknown to Langley.’

‘So what do you know?’

‘That’s the thing. Not much more than you. This one’s completely compartmentalized. And to be honest, that scares the shit out of me.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it means they’re trying to plug a leak.’

‘A mole? Rogue? Double agent?’

She took a deep breath, clearly disgusted. ‘Delgado is a wild card. They put Tamer on him, even though I warned against it. I worked with Tamer once before, and I told them he couldn’t be trusted.’

Ross stiffened. ‘You know the whole story?’

‘If you’re talking about the boy in Tobruk that he recruited and killed, then yes. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s terminated his own informant.’

‘Son of a bitch.’

She shifted in her seat to face him. ‘Ross, let me tell you something. It’s a lot different on my side of the fence. They tell you to gather the intel. They tell you not to break the law. But they don’t ask questions.’

‘And you’re okay with that?’

‘No, I’m not. But sometimes I have to be … if I want to stay alive.’

Ross swore under his breath. They were both caught between duty and politics, between doing what was morally correct and what would best keep the country safe. If making those decisions had been easy, neither of them would have been there …

‘All right, you’ve been around this block a few times and so have I,’ he said. ‘So what do we got? SAMs smuggled out of Libya, flown down to Sudan, and off to where? Afghanistan?’

‘Maybe. Or the missiles could stay right here in Africa. You know, I could rattle off twenty other places they could go — Basilan, Chechnya, Syria …’

Ross felt her frustration. ‘Here’s something else bothering me. Why are the FARC being used overseas? Why doesn’t Hamid use his own people?’

‘Our intel on the Bedayat is still fragmentary and evolving. His al Qaeda allies are dead or in prison, so he’s developing a new network. He’s still recruiting the bulk of his force now. Maybe he’s just brought over the FARC to bolster his numbers.’

‘Either that or he’s not wasting his people on these security missions because he needs them someplace else.’

‘And where’s that?’

Ross glanced at his tablet computer. ‘I’m just a guy following a truckload of SAMs. You’re the intelligence agent.’

She snickered. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be more … intelligent.’

‘I was going to say enlightening.’

‘Look, once we get to the port, we’ll figure out what these bastards plan to do with the SAMs, then I can tap a few more resources if I need them.’

‘I’m willing to bet our boy Delgado has all the answers. You guys need to find him.’

‘Oh, trust me. We will.’