Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 10 (6 page)

 
          
“Why?”

 
          
“We
don’t just disagree—I feel his views of the military and
America
’s role in the world suck,” Patrick said. “
America
has the moral wisdom to use its military
forces to protect peace and freedom around the world. This ‘stick-your-
head-in-the-sand’ attitude is causing widespread uncertainty in the world, and
scumbags like Pavel Kazakov are crawling out of the woodwork and taking
advantage of it.”

           
“Then why wouldn’t you go to the
White House and tell Thom what you think?”

 
          
“Because
you can’t talk to guys like Thom. He’s a fanatic, an extremist ideologue. I’d
be arguing real-world situations and alternatives to crises that require fast
responses, and he’d be quoting Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin. No,
thanks.”

 
          
“You
would decline to accept the nomination?”

 
          
“Loudly
and publicly,” Patrick said finally.

 
          
Martindale
nodded. “Good. You’re the heart of this team, Patrick—I hope you know that,” he
said sincerely. “We’d exist without you, but we wouldn’t be the same— not
nearly as dedicated, not nearly as hard-charging. I’d move heaven and earth to
keep you here.”

 
          
“Thank
you, sir,” Patrick said. “That means a lot.” Patrick and Hal followed
Martindale into a secure conference room in the main headquarters building of
the Sky Masters Inc. campus, a large industrial and research center in what was
the old Blytheville Air Force Base in
Arkansas
, now called the Arkansas International
Jetport. They warmly greeted Patrick’s brother Paul, one of the first members
of the Night Stalkers and the most experienced Tin Man battle armor user, along
with Chris Wohl, a retired Marine Corps master sergeant and Hal Briggs’s
longtime partner. Martindale took his place at the apex of the conference table
while Patrick secured the room, then motioned for Chris Wohl to begin:

 
          
“We
are closely monitoring developments on the border between
Libya
and
Egypt
,” Wohl began. “
Libya
has recently sent several thousand troops
to the
Sudan
, on
Egypt
’s southern border, supposedly to support the president of the
Sudan
against rebel insurgents that are using
Chad
as a safe haven. However, the insurgency
was crushed last year, and Libyan forces remain deployed in three Sudanese
bases—all within a day’s armored vehicle march of five major Egyptian oil
fields.
Egypt
has reinforced its armed forces in the region and maintains a rough
parity with Libyan forces.”

 
          
“So
Libya
wants to take
Egypt
’s oil fields?”

 
          
“That’s
nothing new,” Martindale said, “although they’ve preferred in the past to try
to form a partnership with
Egypt
in developing its oil reserves. However,
Egypt
wants to form a consortium with some Western
oil companies to tap its oil fields.”

 
          
“Lots
more money that way, I’d guess,” Briggs offered.

 
          
“Exactly
right—and ExxonMobil and Shell don’t bring troops with them to the
contract-signing ceremonies,” Martindale said. “The consortium wants to build a
four- hundred-and-sixty-mile-long pipeline from southern
Egypt
to the
Mediterranean Sea
capable of shipping two million barrels of
crude per day, along with building refineries. It’s a three-billion-dollar
project that
Libya
desperately wants to get involved with.”

 
          
“Doesn’t
Libya
already export oil?” Paul McLanahan asked.

 
          
“Yes,
but with
U.S.
sanctions still in place, they don’t ship much to the West,” Martindale
replied. “The new president of
Libya
, who calls himself King Idris the Second,
is even worse than Muammar Qadhafi. Idris, whose real name is Zuwayy, has
reorganized the Muslim Brotherhood, the group of Muslim fanatics that seeks to
make every Arabic-speaking nation in the world a theocracy— governed and
steered by strict fundamentalist doctrine.
Libya
,
Sudan
, and
Yemen
are solidly in his hip pocket;
Palestine
,
Lebanon
,
Syria
,
Iraq
,
Saudi Arabia
, and
Jordan
are leaning toward him;
Kuwait
,
Bahrain
,
Qatar
, the
United Arab Emirates
,
Oman
, and
Egypt
so far oppose him.”

 
          
“And
the Muslim Brotherhood has been linked with the assassination of President
Salaam of
Egypt
and his wife,” Hal Briggs added. “Sounds like recruitment by
intimidation to me. Join—or else.”

 
          
“It
looks like Zuwayy’s going further than just assassination,” Martindale said.
“Sergeant Wohl?”

 
          
“Intelligence
experts suspect that Libya has imported surface-to-surface missiles from
someone—China, Pakistan, Russia, we don’t know for sure yet—and has set up
several bases from which to stage attacks into Egypt to destroy their military
forces,” Wohl went on. “The rumor is, the missiles have chemical, biological,
and nuclear warheads, as well as conventional high-explosives. We have been
tasked to find those missiles, identify them, and destroy them if possible.”

 
          
“‘Intelligence
experts’?” Patrick asked suspiciously. “Who might they be, sir? I know we’re
not getting any cooperation from
U.S.
agencies.”

 
          
Kevin
Martindale looked at Patrick with a mixture of irritation and surprise in his
features. “A group hired by the Central African Petroleum Partners,” Martindale
replied uneasily.

 
          
“You
mean the oil consortium with a stake in the Egyptian oil fields?”

 
          
“Do
you have a problem working for them, General?” Martindale asked.

 
          
“Sir,
I want to head off trouble as much as anyone,” Patrick said. “And I certainly
don’t like Zuwayy any more than I liked Qadhafi and the terrorist organizations
they sponsor. But I don’t like the idea of being a hired gun for an oil cartel,
either.”

 
          
“Would
you like them better if I told you we would be getting our first paychecks out
of this?” Martindale asked. “That’s the difference between this mission and all
the others—we are given a target, but we’re also well compensated for our
services.”

 
          
Patrick
fell silent, but the eagerness was evident in Hal Briggs’s and Paul McLanahan’s
eyes. The reason was clear: They had the most to lose and the most to gain out
of this. Martindale, Patrick, and Chris Wohl all had government pensions
waiting for them; in addition, Patrick was a vice president of Sky Masters
Inc., for which he was very well paid. But Hal Briggs resigned his Air Force
commission well before retirement age, and Paul McLanahan had only a small
disability check from the Sacramento Police Department, where he was a sworn
officer for only a few weeks before being retired with a one-hundred-percent
disability. Neither of them had earned any money in many months, and had been
relying on gifts from Martindale and Patrick.

 
          
“How
much are we talkin’ about here, Mr. President?” Hal asked.

 
          
“I
accepted a twenty-million-dollar contract for our services, plus a bonus for
complete destruction of all known missile installations,” Martindale replied.
“I will pay every man in this room twenty-five thousand dollars a day,
beginning as soon as you accept this mission.”

 
          
“Per
...day
...?”

 
          
“Our
support team members will earn ten thousand dollars . .. and yes, that’s per
day, tax free,” Martindale went on. “The Night Stalkers will pay Sky Masters
Inc. full retail price for the equipment and supplies we use. Sound okay with
you, gentlemen?” Hal slapped his hands together excitedly, and Paul looked
jubilant—even Chris Wohl nodded in approval, even though he wore his same
expressionless warrior’s mask. Martindale studied their faces, then settled on
Patrick’s. “All right with you, General?” he asked.

 
          
Patrick
looked at Paul and Hal’s happy faces. Paul gave his brother an excited slap on
the back—it had been a long time since he had seen him smile like that. “Yes,
sir,” Patrick finally responded. “It’s okay with me.”

 
          
“Outstanding,”
Martindale said. He punched up instructions into a computer, and the results
were projected onto a large flat-panel monitor on the conference-room wall.
“The intelligence we’ve received indicates several new Libyan missile bases
scattered around the country. I’ll leave it up to you and your support team to
figure out the best way to proceed, but after speaking with Master Sergeant
Wohl here, he suggests a soft probe of the most likely bases, followed by an
unmanned aircraft strike to soften up the base’s defenses, followed by a
hard-target penetration. It’s up to you—but I hasten to remind you of a
substantial performance bonus for each one of you if the danger to the
consortium’s pipeline is eliminated. Enough said. Good luck, and good hunting.”

           
As was his custom, Martindale never
stuck around for the details—the planning, training, organization, logistics,
or movement of the Night Stalkers was never something he was concerned about.
He gave marching orders, then left it to the teams to carry out the plan. Within
minutes, they heard his helicopter depart, on its way to his next meeting.
Patrick had little idea what he did, where he went, or whom he spoke to as the
former president of the
United States
.

 
          
“Now
we’re talking
serious
bucks!” Briggs
exclaimed happily. “Man, I was hoping we’d get into jobs like this—I was
thinking I’d have to go back to Georgia and help my granddad in his kennels and
get a real job.”

 
          
“I’m
not happy about accepting this job,” Patrick admitted. “Some big oil cartel is
asking us to put our asses on the firing line to help them keep their profits
safe. We don’t know anything about the cartel; and since the assassination of
President Salaam, we don’t know which way the Egyptian government is going to
go. And I don’t trust any intelligence info we get from private sources. They
answer to investors and bosses, not to the grunts.”

 
          
Hal
fell silent, looking at the ground. Chris Wohl nodded. “All good points, sir,”
he said. “Our first priority would be to get our own intel—a few overflights from
some NIRTSats should do it.” NIRTSats, or Need It Right This Second Satellites,
were small, low-Earth orbit photo and radar reconnaissance satellites designed
for a specific mission. They were extremely valuable in passing detailed
intelligence information to tactical units; but because they were in very low
orbits, their duration was usually only a few days or a couple weeks, and they
carried only small positioning thrusters and very little fuel, so their orbits
could not be changed or even fine-tuned to any great extent. He looked at
Patrick evenly, then added, “If you agree to do it with us.”