LITMIR.BIZ

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windows of information. One was the report given by a surviving police officer from the hospital, and the other window had three subwindows with photographs and verbal descriptions of Keller, Haggar and Cannon. Kurtzman highlighted dozens of matching keywords between one window and the next.

      “And yet, he plays dumb so well,” Price muttered. “There are times when he’s almost Sherlock Holmes.”

      “Yeah, but the deerstalker cap doesn’t match his commando fatigues,” Tokaido quipped.

      “Carl and the others took off. He probably is heading to one of the trio’s San Francisco hangouts,” Delahunt replied.

      Kurtzman did a quick scan and nodded. “If they’re going to find anyone, it’ll be Haggar. He was part of an outlaw motorcycle gang for a few years, and his records indicate that he used to frequent a bar in the Frisco area.”

      Price groaned softly. “Able Team at a biker bar?”

      Kurtzman raised an eyebrow. “They’ll be as discreet as they can be.”

      Price frowned. “You know why I made the effort to keep those three on American soil. They’re a diplomatic relations disaster waiting to happen. Hell, even in the U.S., they leave big, messy footprints wherever they go into action.”

      “They get results,” Kurtzman said.

      Price sighed. “I know. I’ll just get ready to start calling in favors in Southern California. Just in case they accidentally set off the San Andreas fault.”

      Kurtzman smiled. “Chances are, when Lyons and company are finished, the authorities will just wish that the big one had hit instead.”

      “You’re not bolstering my confidence, Bear,” Price moaned, heading back to her operations office.

      She was at the door when another signal lit up from Kenya.

      Price stopped and looked back.

      “Hang on, Carmen, I have incoming from David,” Kurtzman said.

      “Let it through. He’s probably calling, complaining about another Hugh Grant movie on the flight,” Delahunt said.

      “David, you’re on,” Kurtzman acknowledged, once Wethers signaled that the call was clean.

      “Bloody hell,” David McCarter’s voice snapped over the satellite phone. “Careful!”

      “Sorry, David,” Gary Manning responded.

      “What happened?” Price asked.

      “Gary’s stitching my bloody shoulder shut…literally bloody,” the Phoenix Force commander answered. “Barb, someone was waiting for us to get off that ruddy jet.”

      “You were attacked when you landed?” Price asked.

      “They tried to make it look like the whole base was the target, but they were looking for us. What information did Stewart have about us?” McCarter asked.

      “Just that you were a joint task force counterterrorism team sent over to help investigate Algul, his blood cult, and their ties to the Shining Warrior Path and AJAX,” Price responded.

      “Well, they were waiting to throw us a party. RPGs, a couple of waves of AK-toting psychos, and enough ammunition to cripple the transport jet and kill five U.S. military personnel,” McCarter explained. “I thought we were supposed to be protecting people, not springing traps and getting them killed.”

      “Sorry,” Price answered. “She must have Task Force Camelot’s communications all sewn up.”

      Kurtzman pointed to Tokaido, who put his current work on hold to burn up the keyboard about the possible snooping.

      “It makes me wonder if they weren’t planning a ‘how do you do’ for Cal and Rafe in Hong Kong,” McCarter said.

      “We’ll get back to you if anything came up,” Price promised. “Don’t worry.”

      “It’s my job to worry about my lads,” McCarter grunted. “Luckily, I’m the only one splashing the red vino around, though T.J. and Gary are covered with scrapes from diving to the concrete.”

      “All right,” Price answered. “When Calvin and Rafael call in, we’ll let them know you’re okay.”

      “Thanks, Barb,” McCarter answered. “Bear, this operation’s full of leaks. That Ka55andra witch must be nearly as good as you are.”

      “If you’re trying to challenge me, it’s working,” Kurtzman replied. “I’ve got our people looking all over for her. All we can do is keep shaking trees and hoping something drops into our laps.”

      “Any leads on the Cassandra mythology angle?” McCarter asked.

      “No reported rape charges in the current administration, both in the White House and in the Department of Homeland Security, though we have had several officials who have been present at the destruction of small towns and villages from Hanoi to Baghdad,” Kurtzman answered.

      “And all points in between,” McCarter grumbled. “Bleed-in’ wonderful.”

      “It’s taking time, but we’ll come up with something,” Kurtzman promised.

      “In the meantime, we’ll knock up this chap Algul and see what he has to say about things,” McCarter replied.

      “Be careful, David,” Price requested.

      “I always take care of business, Barb. Don’t drink the coffee.” McCarter signed off.

      Price looked at the mug in her hands, one she’d prepared during McCarter’s report, and wrinkled her nose at the black ugly sludge. She shrugged and took a sip anyway, screwing up her face at the bitter foulness of it.

      “He asked you not to drink the coffee,” Kurtzman noted.

      Price looked at him and shrugged. “That’s okay. I know David. He’s not going to be careful, either.”

      Kurtzman winked and returned to conferencing with Carmen Delahunt.

      It was going to be a long week.

      T.J. HAWKINS HANDED over McCarter’s M-486 carbine and gave his commander a mock salute. “All cleaned up and accounted for.”

      The ex-SAS commando checked his rifle, just to be sure, and nodded to the former Ranger. “Thanks, mate.”

      “You think Rafe and Cal stumbled into a trap?” Hawkins asked.

      “I bloody well know it,” McCarter responded. “But, I know those two. If anyone can scurry out of the fryer, it’s them.”

      Manning applied the last bandage to the Briton’s shoulder and gave him a light tap on the back. “It’s the best I could do. Calvin could have done a better job with his eyes closed.”

      “If Calvin was fixing my hide, he’d better keep his bloomin’ orbs peeled for the job,” McCarter rumbled.

      “Cranky that you didn’t get your bottle today?” Manning chided gently.

      “Having my Coke is the least of it, Gary,” McCarter snapped back. “T.J., did Stewart give you any intelligence on the blokes that hit us?”

      “As far as we can tell, they’re the reason why Kenya let in a contingent of multinationals,” Hawkins answered. “Shining Warrior Path. I took a look at the bodies we recovered, and none of them were done up in ceremonial mud or paint like Algul’s men.”

      “Too bad we didn’t take any prisoners,” McCarter growled. “I’d get them to talk.”

      “Remember what Yakov said about torture, David,” Manning gently reminded.

      “What torture? I forgot my country music CDs anyway,” McCarter quipped.

      “Hey now…” Hawkins spoke up, exaggerating

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