LITMIR.BIZ

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      McCarter was smiling at Dory. It was the special smile he reserved for intimidating unpleasant people. The smile that convinced very bad people that he was considering killing them and the deciding factor would be the next thing that came out of their mouth.

      Dory met Manning’s gaze, blinked first and closed his mouth.

      Gaz started dropping knowledge. He nodded at Propenko. “You know this man, and his reputation, Dory?”

      “That is Nika—”

      “Yes. Well, Nika Propenko is now mercenary and now doing jobs outside Russian Federation. Things went bad in Poland, and I am thinking he call upon his new Western friends.” Gaz put his hands on his chest and made an attempt at looking personally hurt by this development. “Instead of calling on old friends and homeboys.”

      Propenko dragged deeply on his cigarette. “Hard to know who to trust.”

      Dory regained a tiny amount of outrage. “Propenko brings foreign mercenaries into a place I control?” He shot a nervous, angry look at Manning. “And this smiling asshole is—”

      Manning spoke the German he had been raised with. “Your worst nightmare.”

      Gaz’s head snapped around. “German?”

      Manning smiled menacingly. “Jah.”

      McCarter watched wheels turn in Gaz’s mind.

      The Berlin Wall had officially fallen in 1989. Before it had, East Germany had been an Orwellian nightmare. Their secret police and border guards had made the same services of their Soviet overlords look like mild-mannered milquetoasts, and in the Eastern bloc, East German organized crime was the worst of the worst and feared out of all relation to their numbers and actual influence. In Russia, even to this day, German was the language of the enemy. In Russian criminal circles, a smiling man speaking German was the Slavic version of the white devil.

      Propenko had been doing work for criminals and parties unknown of late, and the fact that he had escaped from Poland, come back and kicked ass in Kaliningrad was causing shock waves. That he appeared to have a Nazi devil on a leash only added to the wampum he was walking with.

      “Nika, my friend,” Gaz asked, “what is it you and your friends want?”

      “Money,” McCarter suggested.

      “Payback,” Propenko snarled.

      Manning dropped the dead smile and shrugged. “A job?”

      Gaz shoved out his shot glass and McCarter poured. The Russian leaned in and spoke low. “Listen, despite certain discrepancy and—” he looked back at Dory “—disrespect,

      we can make this work out.” Gaz looked at McCarter warily and turned back to Propenko. “Forgive me, Nika. But you act like this man is your superior.”

      Propenko simultaneously lied through his teeth and told the stone-cold truth at the same time. “The last time I took job from man in West?” He lifted his chin at McCarter. “I worked for him. He got me out of jam.”

      Gaz chain-lit another cigarette. “I believe you. Your reputation is known. You say you want payback?”

      “I was shot, captured and interrogated. Torture was amateurish, lightweight, Western. But as fighters these men were unbeatable.”

      “You say you escaped?”

      “I got myself out of that situation and made it across border. It beat being handcuffed to truck and waiting for Polish police.”

      “I am a middleman, Nika, but I have been informed that certain parties would like to know much more about what happened in Poland. It was suggested that perhaps I scoop you up and bring you to them, or perhaps even show up with can of gasoline. I suggested I talk to you first.”

      “Thank you.”

      Gaz glanced at McCarter and Manning. “I am thinking I made correct choice. Tell me, Nika. These men who captured you and interrogated you… You think you can find them again? It will be worth great deal of money.”

      “Perhaps. But if I can’t?” It was Propenko’s turn to glance at McCarter and Manning. “These men can.”

      * * *

       War Room, Stony Man Farm

      “SO WE’RE BAIT,” Carl Lyons concluded.

      It was a simple plan, but from where Lyons sat it sucked. Able Team was to go to Europe, to essentially pose as Phoenix Force to fool the enemy, while the real Phoenix Force led the enemy straight to Able Team.

      “That’s about it,” Price confirmed. “I discussed it with Hal, and he agrees we’re boxed in.” Price was referring to Hal Brognola, Director of the Special Operations Group. Brognola was fully engaged running interference in Washington, DC, but was in constant touch with his mission controller. “Risky, yes, but it’s our best bet. And he’s got the President’s go-ahead.”

      Rosario Blancanales shrugged and looked at Schwarz. “Wouldn’t be the first time we’re the cheese in the mousetrap.”

      All three members of Able Team were seated at the War Room conference table with Price and Kurtzman.

      Price outlined the plan. “When the bad guys went after Phoenix the first time, they had eyes in the sky. We think they will again, and we think they are going to make one hell of an attempt at capturing you. Whoever is behind all this is extremely well-funded, has access to the absolute latest technology and seems to be up to something. The good news is we are as much a mystery to them as they are to us. And, after Gdansk and Karmal, the first two rounds go to the Farm. Whoever these people are, they must be in pretty desperate need to find out who we are and fast. The flip side of that is we have to expect the next fight to get real nasty.”

      Schwarz considered the technology he had been examining for the past twenty-four hours. “This sure stinks like a trap.”

      “A trap within a trap within a trap,” Kurtzman agreed. “It’s very Russian. The advantage we have is that it is a trap on both sides, and Phoenix Force will be sort of a reverse Trojan horse on the inside. I think the most likely scenario is that Phoenix and whomever the bad guys send along with them will be cannon fodder and a diversion. You need to expect to get hit by a second force, and expect them to come in with overwhelming force. Given the tech they put in their UAVs, we have to expect they have access to satellite imaging and absolutely top-notch ground surveillance. So will we. It will be a question of who catches who watching who first.”

      Blancanales thought it was the worst plan in the world except that no one was coming up with anything better. He turned to his mission controller. “What is Phoenix’s disposition going to be?”

      Price started laying out details. “David is sticking with a three-man team of him, Manning and Propenko going in. The good news for you is that Cal and Hawk will be seconded to Able Team.”

      Schwarz pumped his fist. “Yes!”

      “Jack will involve Dragonslayer and he will be armed. The bad guys must think we are some sort of clandestine operation—they probably won’t be expecting a gunship. Of course, given what happened in Karmal, we have to expect they may have air power, as well.”

      Blancanales perked up hopefully.

      “Does that mean we get Rafe, as well?” Lyons asked.

      “You do. We have reason to suspect the Russian force they give Propenko will be considered expendable. When it hits the fan, we think there is a good chance they will follow Propenko wherever he leads. So you and Phoenix may end up with a small army of your own. And, yes, Encizo will be on your team.”

      Lyons brought up the question of the day. “There was already a mysterious battle on the Polish-Kaliningrad border. Don’t you think the Polish police and border patrol are pretty stirred up as it is?”

      “If

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