LITMIR.BIZ

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to Delahunt.

      “Three numbers proved to be of the most interest,” she said. “The first was confirmed to be that of an arms dealer named Mirjana operating out of Croatia. I have a file worked up on him. He’s known to Interpol but is well connected to the government there. He moves in the same circles as our friend Monzer al-Kassar, but we haven’t connected them specifically, yet.

      “The second number is to a former commander in Saddam’s Special Republican Guard. He’s living with relatives in Amman, Jordan. He left Iraq immediately after Baghdad fell and has given no indication of having been involved in anti-American activities. The Defense Intelligence Agency had a workup on him they shared with Homeland Security, and he was given a pass.

      “Perhaps the potentially most significant one is to the number of a Syrian National Airlines branch office in the former Soviet Republic of Azerbaijan. It is, of course, well-known that certain elements of Syrian intelligence services operate frequently from these branch offices. I’ve pulled everything we have on the region and that airport for the report.” Delahunt paused, she seemed almost apologetic.

      “It’s pretty sparse,” she admitted. “It’s obvious the Syrian diplomat to Ottawa was using his son as a plausible deniability cutout. However, what is unrelated Syrian interest and what is specific to Scimitar remains uncertain at this point. If the youth was using the Toronto mosque to expand Scimitar’s network then such a disparate web as the numbers seem to indicate is a very bad sign. The network is most definitely global and apparently reaches beyond either the jihadist movement or Syrian intelligence.”

      “Thank you, Carmen,” Price said, and Delahunt exited the War Room.

      “There you have it,” Brognola said. “Not much to go on. Despite that, they’re the best leads we’ve ever come across concerning Scimitar-specific information. Because of his links to the Iraqi government and what the press would do if they found out, the Man wants this kept Stony Man quiet.”

      “I guess the sooner I start, the sooner Scimitar gets taken down,” Bolan said.

      “This couldn’t have come at a more inopportune time, Mack,” Price said.

      “Able Team is tied up in South America and Phoenix Force has been tapped to provide security on a high-profile VIP working on nuclear proliferation in—” Kurtzman added.

      “It’s important,” Brognola interjected.

      “That op was set up a while ago through—” The computer wizard started.

      “I know.” Brognola cut him off again. “If this trail takes Striker into Iraq, I don’t want him operating in that cesspool alone.”

      “I’m somewhat used to working alone,” Bolan said, his voice as dry as an old grave.

      “I know, Striker. But this could get damn ugly, and I know you’re used to that, as well,” Brognola said.

      He turned to Price. “How many of Phoenix can you peel off that detail?”

      Price pursed her lips, obviously conflicted. She was a mission-first person, and she ran Stony Man that way. Still, both operations were obviously of importance.

      “I can’t drop the ball on that security detail, Hal,” she said. “I can give him two and that’s stretching it. Not Manning, though,” she added, thoughtful. “He’s my ballistics and explosives number one. He can handle the matter with North American International over secure communications if he needs to.”

      Brognola turned back to Bolan. “I can give you two from Phoenix Force. Take them, Striker.”

      Bolan nodded. He was pensive for a moment, weighing out the various specialties of each man. McCarter was out, obviously, as he was the team leader. The soldier trusted each man in Phoenix Force with his life; it wasn’t a question of trust. All of them were equally capable in their own ways. It was a question of pure pragmatism that guided his decision now.

      “Give me Calvin and Rafe,” he said, referring to Calvin James and Rafael Encizo. “I’d like a dedicated Stony Man pilot if the need comes down to that,” Bolan said. “That could expedite things a lot. Jack, of course, if you can spare him.”

      Brognola shifted his eyes to Price. Such matters were her domain.

      “I’m sorry, Mack,” she said. “I know how much you trust Jack, but I need him down with Able Team. I can give you Charlie Mott.”

      “He’s a good man,” Bolan agreed.

      “All right,” Brognola stood. “Now that that’s settled we’ll get Rafe and Cal in here and get them up to speed. I have a meeting at Pennsylvania Avenue I’m late for.” He came around the table and shook Bolan’s hand.

      “That was good work in Toronto, Striker. You keep yourself safe on this one.”

      Bolan smiled back. If he had a dollar for every time he’d heard Brognola tell him to stay safe…well he’d be ahead by a lot.

      “Thanks, Hal,” he said. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

      S EVERAL HOURS LATER Bolan sat in the Stony Man Computer Room.

      Price manned a telephone, deeply immersed in a conference call. Across the room Aaron Kurtzman worked at his station. He typed on a keyboard with a blunt, staccato rhythm. Maps, weather reports, intelligence bulletins and classified military reports scrolled across his multiple screens.

      Bolan shuffled through his travel papers. He had identification as a North American International employee and another set as an Associated Press freelance reporter. His kit held passports, open tickets and visa receipts to bonded warehouses around the region. At his feet there was a black leather satchel that reminded him of a bowling ball bag which was tagged with a Diplomatic Pouch ID.

      The suitcase was filled with stacks of money in several currencies. There was no functioning bank system in Iraq, no money wire transfers. Most people, from the government to the U.S. military to street vendors and terror agents, dealt in cold, hard cash.

      In the War Room Rafael Encizo and Calvin James were being given their briefings. Bolan looked up as the door opened and Carmen Delahunt rushed in.

      She held up a fax sheet and waved it at Price, who nodded and hurriedly cut her connection on the telephone. Bolan slid his paperwork together and put it in the black satchel with the cash before zipping the suitcase closed.

      “We just got a break,” Delahunt said.

      Price walked over to where Bolan was sitting and sat on a corner of the desk. Bolan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desktop. Delahunt slapped the fax printout in front of them.

      “I had a hunch,” she said. “So I did a keyword search of the integrated system. I came across an oblique reference to ‘Scimitar’ in an Interpol Asian Liaison report. It was pretty vague, but it was in reference to the Shimmering Raindrop Triad, known to operate out of Hong Kong. The interesting part is that the Agency,” she said, referencing one of the slang terms for the CIA, “has them pegged as a sometime mercenary cutout for China’s Central Control of Information.”

      Bolan grunted in recognition at the name. The CCI was a branch of Communist China’s foreign intelligence services. It was mostly known for economic and industrial espionage. It operated out of Silicon Valley and Hong Kong the way the KGB had operated out of Berlin during the cold war.

      “Good work, Carmen,” Price said. “What else?”

      “Apparently the agency had a middle management mole in the triad. It was a report about that asset, Jigsaw Liu, that mentioned Scimitar. Jigsaw Liu was given control of triad gambling operations in Hong Kong. He was briefly the focus of an Immigration and Customs investigation into human smuggling with the FBI. The Agency stepped in and asked the DNI to squash it, despite the various crimes, because he represents a backdoor into the CCI.

      “I have a contact number for Jigsaw Liu’s handler if you want to make contact

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