Renelli nodded
“Clear, General, sir.”
“Damn nuisance this coming now. I need to concentrate on Khalli. McAdam has Khariza to deal with. So it looks like you’re going to have to handle Jacobi and the Justice agents, Renelli. Take whoever you need from the unit. Track that son of a bitch and remove him.”
“No sweat, General. We’ll find him and deal with it.”
“This needs swift action. Time’s not on our side.”
“I’m on it, sir.”
Renelli picked up the phone and called the base. He spoke at length to his team and told them to be standing by once he reached them, then went up front to give the pilot his new instructions.
When he returned, he sat across from Gardener and gave him an update on his call to his team.
“We have those two Justice agents under observation, General. I’ve had a standby team watching the senator. Purely as a security precaution. When those men appeared at his office and then his house, the team put a tail on them, so we might not know who they are, but we sure as hell know where they are. Hope I haven’t overstepped my authority, General.”
“Renelli, when something like this happens I realize I couldn’t have made a better choice. We have to watch for any moves from people like these Justice people. If you hadn’t seen fit to cover the senator, who by the way doesn’t need to know about our surveillance, then we would not have these people under our watch. Good work, son. Keep it up.”
Gardener nodded, satisfied that he had the situation under control. He knew, come the day, that he could always depend on his own people.
They were his people and they would die proving it. What more could a commander ask?
Rick Renelli had been in Gardener’s command for more than eight years. He had been a good soldier. But Renelli’s problem had been his overenthusiasm and that eagerness to please had proved his undoing. During a covert operation, Renelli had allowed his forceful attitude to kick the rule book out the window. The end result had been the death of three men in his squad and his superior officer badly wounded. On their return stateside Renelli had been accused, tried and discharged from the service.
Two weeks after that he had been contacted and advised that someone had a job for him. A night flight had delivered Renelli to the Gardener ranch in New Mexico and a meeting with his former commander. Gardener had bawled out Renelli big-time, angry at the way he had wasted his military career over a moment of laxity. The dressing down hadn’t been so much for the actual misdemeanor, more for the fact that Renelli hadn’t managed to extricate himself from the charges. The moment the shouting was over, Gardener sat Renelli down for a meal and offered him a position in the clandestine group he was forming to spearhead his planned coup against the U.S. government and the planting of a Gardener man within the Iraqi government, one who while steering the country toward a new democracy would also smooth the way for Gardener and his global enterprise. As far as Gardener was concerned, the U.S. had to maintain a strong grip on the Iraqi oil deposits. They were vitally important given the way the world was moving. America’s strength depended on its military machine and the industrial power base that served it. Allowing that to slide would leave America open to both internal and external threats.
The current administration, with its low-key polices and too much appeasement, was betraying the U.S., opening the gates to allow America’s detractors to gain ground, and showing a weaker face to the world in general. Chase Gardener had the vision to push America back to the top, his policy one of standing hard against the people trying to hold it back. Renelli, a man who had previously seen the way Gardener performed, had no argument with the man. He was a soldier, eager to serve under his old commander, and he’d accepted Gardener’s offer the moment it was laid in front of him.
While Gardener had his service people and contacts already lining up behind him, there was going to be a need for something off-the-books, a force that could stay away from the military machine as such, while carrying out Gardener’s covert operations with the least possible hindrance. Renelli, a combat veteran, was a natural. He could run the covert team, funded through one of Gardener’s many financial outlets, without having to concern himself with military protocol. Once the operation moved into gear, time would be a vital consideration. One of Renelli’s responsibilities would be unforeseen events. Incidents that might, if left to run unchecked, create difficulties for the main body of the operation. Gardener had explained from the start that due to the fluidity of the Iraq situation and the homeland operation, which would require the ability to be changed at a moment’s notice, he—Renelli—would need to be able to operate within that kind of environment. Renelli saw no problems there.
Before dawn the next day Gardener and Renelli had drawn up a list of names of men, all ex-military, who were to be approached. The offer would be similar to what Renelli had been made. The men were to be recruited to be part of Renelli’s team. Answerable to him initially, but with Gardener as their ultimate commander. The team was to be provided with anything it needed. Money was no object. Gardener had the ability to procure weapons that could be concealed via judicious juggling of orders and needs. Renelli’s team would be paid for by Gardener Global and equipped in part by the U.S. government.
The scheme had been running smoothly until Luke Jacobi had stumbled in on something he would have been better to have left alone. That hadn’t happened. A little ball-fumbling had allowed Jacobi to walk out free and clear. Gardener wanted retrieval before Jacobi passed that ball to someone who might run with it.
A LITTLE WHILE LATER Gardener received a call from McAdam himself.
“If this is about the senator, I already know.”
McAdam grunted his acknowledgment.
“We’re working on it.”
“Rod, I have my own people on it. The matter is well covered.”
“Fine. That wasn’t the main reason I called,” the CIA man said.
“So?”
“My contact at the White House has just confirmed what we talked about yesterday. Time and date as previously suggested.”
“Good news, Rod. And your other reason for calling?”
“They picked up Lane in Chechnya. Word just came through. He’d gone looking for that camp Dushinov is said to have running to train Khariza’s crew. Some local agreed to guide him in, but they were caught. The local ended up near skinned to the bone. Dushinov’s men took Lane. That’s all I know right now.”
“Did Lane pass anything back before he was captured?”
“No. I hadn’t heard from him for a few days. Last report said he had a line on something, but he couldn’t give it a name yet.”
“Can you get anyone else into the area to try to extract Lane?”
“Not likely. Our station man said the locals have shut down. He can’t get anyone to help him after what happened to Lane’s guide. This rebel, Dushinov, has the territory out there pretty well under his heel. The guy has kicked the Russians out of his backyard for Christ’s sake. He’s a scary mother.”
Gardener leaned his head against the backrest of his seat, staring up at the curved ceiling of the cabin.
“Chase, you still there?”
“Just thinking. If we can’t get to Lane, then all we can do is hope he keeps his mouth shut. Call me sentimental, but I hope he dies quick. If he starts to get a loose tongue, it could have repercussions. Rod, I’ll be back at the ranch late tonight.