The Team (5 page)

Chapter 13

CIA Training Facility

The team had showered and changed into plain gray sweat suits. Had they gone outside to run the confidence course, they would have looked like everyone else out there, except they would probably shave a few minutes off the fastest times. They reassembled in a large conference room and took seats at a long rectangular table. Dexter Murphy had been at the door and personally shook hands and greeted each man as he came in. When they were all seated, he took his seat at the head of the table.

“Gentlemen, on behalf of Director Wallace Holstrum, I’d like to officially welcome you to the Central Intelligence Agency. You’ve all signed your lives away more than once prior to joining this team, but let me just remind you that everything you see, hear, and do while at this facility is highly classified information. Keeping a secret is one of the hardest things for a human being to do. However, when secrets are blown in
our
world, people die.

“Your personnel records have been changed to reflect special reassignment to Navy Intelligence; however, you will also have new personnel records kept here and only here. While I know you aren’t in this for the money, you will be happy to know that you will be paid by this agency for your time with us, over and above your military pay.

“You are, to my knowledge, the largest team we have ever used in this manner. Our operations are covert and usually performed by single agents or very small teams. Two and three man units, typically. While we occasionally have operatives imbedded with larger military groups, we have never had this many agents working together in the field. You’re appearing together, in public, on a regular basis. It’s highly irregular and very dangerous and, quite frankly, makes me uncomfortable. That said, your first job went surprisingly well.”

Jones mumbled to himself, “Yeah, fuckin’ great.”

Dex heard the comment and didn’t let it pass. “Mr. Jones, I understand your feelings about the unfortunate deaths of the two children on that truck.” Jones eyes snapped to his, surprised that he knew everything already. “The fifty million dollars that you intercepted will save countless numbers of other children in Iraq or Afghanistan or wherever the hell that money was going, as well as American lives and coalition forces. Until those countries are stabilized, children will continue to die there
every day
. You all did your part to prevent some of that bloodshed. Fifty million dollars buys explosives and weapons, intelligence and bribes. The Iraqis are holding their government together by a shoestring. Don’t underestimate the importance of what you did.”

Jones looked down at his hands, folded on the table. He could still see the bodies leaking blood all over the truck.

“A team the size of yours has specific uses in the war on terror. With your advanced training and conditioning, your baseball team is as effective as a small army. Mercenary companies like Executive Outcomes fought in Angola and Sierra Leone against tens of thousands of soldiers, without much more manpower than you have here at this table. That said, you
do
need some additional training. Not with your military skills—we all know you can fight. And the reports I read from your previous training and mission prep were all outstanding. But the types of operations that you will be conducting will require specialty skills that not all of you have been exposed to. This is why you have been brought here.

“Over the next six weeks, you will be taught to use ‘toys’ that you have never seen before. We have surveillance equipment, weapons, computer, and satellite systems available to you that you will need to train on to maximize their effectiveness in the field. For the first five weeks you will train with new equipment and spend some time with agency instructors. The sixth week will be mission specific, and then you will be redeployed.

“Frankly, gentlemen, you’re all one big experiment. SEALs, Marine Recondos, Army Rangers, and our own personnel working together would have been inconceivable only a few years ago, but the battle space has changed, the enemy has changed, and the times have changed. We are going to use every means available to us to keep our nation safe, which translates to thinking outside the box. You, gentlemen, are outside the box.”

“The batter’s box,” said Ernie quietly.

Dex smiled. “We’ll use the baseball team as a cover for as long as we think it’s safe. At some point, we may need to change your cover story—either a little, or completely, but that will depend on circumstance. In the meantime, check your egos at the door and try and learn as much as you can from our instructors. You’re going back to war gentlemen, just in a way you’ve never done before.”

Dex stood up. “I’ll show you where you can grab some lunch, then it’s off to class for all of you except Mackey and Cascaes. We’re going to see Darren Davis.”

Chapter 14

CIA Training Facility

Dex led Mack and Chris to another conference room and showed them to the coffee machine on a side table. Coffee—the lifeblood of the military and CIA.

They sat at one end of a long mahogany table and Dex pressed an intercom button on the table. He spoke briefly to someone named Kim, who arrived a moment later with a laptop under one arm and a coffee cup in her other hand. She had the brisk, no-nonsense walk of a woman used to working in a man’s world.

“Gentlemen, meet Kim Elton. Kim is the assistant desk chief for the Gulf States. Basically, she covers Kuwait, Bahrain, Qatar, the UAE, Oman, and Yemen. Don’t let her big blue eyes fool you; she speaks fluent Arabic, French, some Hebrew, and a little Farsi for good measure. Kim, this is Chris and the other Chris.”

She smiled and shook hands with the two men. “Excellent. I can’t screw up your names.”

“Actually, I go by Mack to make it more confusing on purpose.”

“Nice,” she replied, taking her seat and opening her laptop. She looked at Dex, who gestured for her to begin her briefing. Kim began typing and opened up a map of the Middle East. “Your team is cleared for confidential and secret clearances. The two of you are cleared for Top Secret. This briefing is more informational in nature, but it does contain some confidential information.”

“In other words, it’s like everything else around here—keep your mouths shut,” said Dex with a smile. “It’s okay, Kim, I’ve already read them the riot act about secrecy.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied curtly. She was just reciting the required rigmarole. “In your original briefing, you had been told that the money you intercepted was heading to Iraq. We now believe that was incorrect. Today’s focus in on Qatar. We’ve been getting some chatter and, on more than one occasion, Doha came up.”

“Been there,” said Cascaes. “The naval base.”

“Naval base and a large air base. The Air Force runs a ton of missions to Afghanistan from Doha. The Al Udeid Air Base is home to both the US and Air Force Central Command and the 379th Air Expeditionary Wing. Plenty of F16s, J-Stars, KC tankers, and the Moon Dogs run electronic warfare from Al Udeid, as well. We’re worried that it may be a terrorist target.”

“I’m pretty sure the whole Middle East is a target,” said Mackey.

“No doubt, there are plenty of targets. But Doha was specifically mentioned. We just don’t know what or when. The security details on both bases have been notified, and blast walls are being constructed at Al Udeid. We believe the fifty million you intercepted was part of this.”

“So if we got the money, doesn’t that screw up their plans?” asked Cascaes.

“Fifty million is a lot of money in almost every part of the world except the Middle East. I’m sure you disrupted their plans, but if the money did, in fact, come from Prince Abdul bin-Mustafa Awadi, he’ll have another fifty million tomorrow.”

“So the prince is involved in all this? Why didn’t we just cap him when we were there?” asked Cascaes, visibly annoyed.

“Assassinating foreign princes is frowned upon,” said Dex quietly. “Unless we have absolute proof of his involvement, there’s no touching him.”

“Have the higher-ups talked to the Qataris?” asked Mackey.

Kim smiled and sat back, folding her arms. “Well, this brings us to the interesting part of the briefing. Qatar has a new emir. Sheikh
Tamim bin Hamad Al Bahani
—youngest leader in the Middle East. And he’s a total contradiction, just like Prince Awadi, but we’ll come back to Awadi in a second.”

Kim keyed her computer and brought up a photograph of the emir. “Sheikh Bahani took over for his father last year. He’s a very pragmatic businessman, and deals with the US, France, and Great Britain like an old friend. Qatar has a huge natural gas reserve as well as oil, and the highest per capita income in the world. He gives us the air base for free and loves having our forces there for his country’s own security. Up until recently, they didn’t even have their own air force. Anyway, this emir talks the talk and openly courts western business. He’s also a huge soccer fan and had a huge stadium built for world soccer events.”

“So we got a prince that loves baseball and an emir that digs soccer. Any Pashas over there like football? I’d like some seats on the fifty if you can work it out,” mumbled Mackey.

Cascaes ignored him. “So this emir, he’s one of the good guys?” asked Cascaes.

“I’m not finished,” she said with a smile. “So, while he’s being Mr. Friendly Businessman, he’s also openly supporting the Muslim Brotherhood, Hamas, and Hezbollah. We believe he funnels money to all of them. He also tells his own people that he supports Sharia Law,
but
it’s one of the only countries in the Middle East that allows pork and alcohol in designated areas. I’d bet a hundred bucks he drinks the world’s best wine and champagne in his palace with his two wives when no one’s looking. Now, while he’s telling his clerics he’s old school, he also changed the law and allowed women the right to vote and hold public office. Except, no woman holds public office because he appoints everyone, usually his family members. And, while he keeps talking about open elections and a new system of lawmaking, everything has to be approved directly by him, anyway. Basically, he tries to sound like his country is making progress, but he is very happy to live in a medieval society where the king makes all the rules, women are property, and he answers to no one.”

“You weren’t kidding about the contradiction part,” said Cascaes.

“No, and Awadi is cut from the same cloth. Prince Abdul went to Princeton University to get his western education ten years ago. He becomes a huge baseball fan, and being the zillionaire that he is, he buys box seats to the Mets for his four years at college. You’ve played in his personal domed stadium—you see how fanatical he is about the game. Anyway, when he was in college, he’d take his new buddies to all the games by stretch limo. He totally loved being surrounded by the celebrities that have those kind of seats. He’s drinking beer, eating hotdogs that he knows aren’t one hundred percent beef, getting laid—a regular westerner. Except then he goes home, goes full-blown Sharia Law on everyone and marries three wives, pumps out nine kids that he doesn’t see because he has the boys in the madras and the girls home in burqas. He’s just like the emir—do as I say, not as I do. So while he’s selling oil and gas to the Americans and talking baseball, he’s also very content to see America and Israel annihilated.”

“I think I’m noticing a pattern,” said Cascaes sarcastically.

“Ya think?” added Mackey.

Kim continued, “So, we believe that the prince is financing operations with various terrorist groups, possibly with the knowledge of the emir. We don’t think the emir would be happy about an attack on the air base, but if it
did
happen and killed some Americans, he wouldn’t lose sleep over it either.”

“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” said Cascaes.

“Yeah?” asked Dex.

“How about we use our planes at the airbase there and carpet bomb the whole fucking country.”

“I do not believe that would be considered good foreign policy by the current administration,” said Dex.

“It’s ridiculous,” said Cascaes.

“Typical Middle Eastern mentality, I’m afraid,” said Kim. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend. And they all change friends and enemies pretty routinely. We’re there because of three reasons: location, location, location. We like the base on the Gulf. We do business with them because we need the gas and oil. But we’re also well aware that their banking system is allowing money to be funneled to terrorist organizations and they won’t make any attempts to stop it. We use them, they use us. It is what it is.”

“Yeah, well, it’s
bullshit
is what it is,” said Cascaes. “Pardon my French.”

“I speak French. I don’t believe I recognized your dialect,” said Kim with a smile. “Anyway, welcome to the Middle East. Nothing is as it appears. And in the case of these two, I’m not sure
they
even know when they’re lying.”

“When their mouths are moving,” replied Mackey.

“Pretty much,” said Dex. “I just wanted to give you an idea of what you’re dealing with.”

“Yeah, well that cleared it right up, thanks,” said Cascaes. He thought for a moment. “Awadi’s in Saudi. You said the Qatari Sheikh knows that the prince is funding terrorists, but he’s in Qatar? What’s the connection between these two?”

“Money,” said Kim. The Saudis and Qataris share some of the oil and gas fields along their mutual border. They’re both basically drilling down into the same giant pocket of gas. It’s sensitive, so they play nice together. Prince Awadi owns thousands of acres of desert along the Qatar border. He and the emir have regular communication, and there’s been money exchanged between the two of them for many years, although it isn’t clear why. Most likely, just land leases.”

“I still don’t get it. How does their mutual oil business have anything to do with the prince’s interest in funding terrorists?” asked Chris.

“My guess is, they have an arrangement to make sure they don’t have any conflicts. If the prince funds an attack that hits a gas pipeline or blows up some petro facility, it better not be the emir’s property that gets hit.”

“That’s nice,” said Mackey.
“You can blow up whatever you want—just make sure it isn’t my stuff.”

“Sounds just about right,” replied Kim. “It’s also about keeping their governments stable so they can pump oil unmolested. When the hard liners get strong, then they have to allow some Anti-Western muscle flexing. When the moderates are strong, they have to look very professional and first world. The mood changes with the prevailing wind over there. To stay in power, the government has to play to a lot of different factions at the same time.”