ourselves impotent.
'Mr. Deputy Director,' said the President. 'I noticed a decided reaction from you when the Mexican state of Tecuno and Governor Diego Quintana was mentioned.'
'It's a complex situation, Mr. President,' said Martin uncomfortably.
'That's why we have the CIA,' said the President unkindly. 'You are there to help us simple folks unravel the knots.'
'Can of worms in this case, Mr. President,' said Martin. His conversation with Kilmara was still on his mind. He decided to go for it. 'Frankly, what we think and what the administration wants are at loggerheads. You want harmony with Mexico, and meanwhile some bad people based in Tecuno are fucking with us.'
'You have proof?' said the President. 'Clear proof that would justify an overt intervention, or at least an approach to the Mexican government?'
'No, sir,' said Martin. 'And unfortunately Governor Quintana is part of the Mexican government. He is secretary of the PRI.'
'You think Tecuno is a haven for these people?' said the President.
'That's the way it looks,' said Martin.
'Well, if we can't go in the front door,' said the President, 'maybe there's a window we can sneak through. Any ideas, Mr. Martin?'
'There's the Irishman called Hugo Fitzduane,' said Martin. 'The man whose wife was kidnapped.'
'Does he have any connection with this Task Force on Terrorism?' said the President, 'and that terrible business in the FarnsworthBuilding?'
'Yes, sir,' said the Deputy Director.
'He seems to have a nose for trouble,' said the President. 'I take it you are suggesting we help him point it.'
'Unofficially, Mr. President.'
'And if he brings back proof,' said the President.
'We go in and we take them out,' said General Frampton. 'A maximum effort.'
'Just like that, General?' said the President.
'Just like that, sir,' said General Frampton. 'I was in Fayetteville just after the bombing. I stood in the blood.
'This is war, sir, and we've got to defend ourselves.'
'Why did we invade Haiti,' said the FBI Director as they left the meeting. 'I've never quite understood.'
'For the same underlying reason that terrorists are active against this country,' said the Deputy Director of the CIA.
'I don't understand,' said the FBI Director.
'Because we could,' said William Martin. 'Because they can.'
Book Two
Counterterror
10
The Humvee ground its way over the dirt road of Maryland's Aberdeen Proving Grounds.
If you wanted to test and lobby for a weapon, this was the place to be. It was far from the only place to prove out instruments of death and destruction, but it was conveniently near Washington, D.C.
The vehicle crashed into yet another pothole, and its massive suspension took the imposition in its stride. Kilmara's back was not so tolerant. General Shane Kilmara was not overly fond of the U.S. Army's replacement for the jeep. He considered it too slow, too heavy, too noisy, too hard to maintain, and far too uncomfortable at his stage in life – but since it was on loan from the U.S. Army complete with driver, he was not complaining.
Someone with clout was backing Fitzduane's little enterprise, and all Kilmara could do was speculate a little and give thanks. Cochrane had muttered jokingly about guardian angels. Kilmara had been networking on the international special-forces circuit for a long time, and he did not think angels had anything to do with it.
'Sir, we're here,' said the driver, halting the vehicle and applying the brake. She was about twenty-two, and her crisp BDUs bore sergeant's stripes and airborne insignia. Kilmara was all for having women in the armed forces if they looked like this. That was probably a sexist thought, but a man needed some variety from leathery sergeants.
'Sir, what are we looking for?'
'Dilger's Baby,' said Kilmara absentmindedly.
'Sir, this is a weapons range,' said the sergeant.
'I surely hope so,' said Kilmara. He smiled. 'Or we're in deep diddly.'
He brought the field glasses up to his eyes. They had been given a map reference to drive to and not much explanation. He had been told to look, and he was looking.
He saw lots of land that looked as if things had exploded in it, on it, and over it rather too often, and not much else except armored vehicle track marks. There was not much cover. There were shell holes and the terrain undulated, but there were no bushes or trees or convenient dry stone walls to hide behind. This ground had been worked over.
Yet, if he had been informed correctly and if the crisp sergeant had navigated right, Fitzduane and Guntrack were within a few hundred meters of where he stood.
Kilmara searched by quadrant. Still nothing. He gave the binoculars to the keen-eyed young sergeant. 'Look for a wedge-front tracked vehicle,' he said, 'probably under camouflage within, say, four hundred meters or so of here.'
The sergeant made two circumferences. On the third sweep, her arm came out and pointed.
Kilmara looked where she indicated. He could just see something – maybe – but mostly it looked like more torn-up ground. He pulled out the personal radio he had been issued and pointed at the location. 'Sergeant Hawkeye got you on her third iteration,' he said. 'I can't see a fucking thing.'
'Encouraging,' said Fitzduane's voice, 'especially since there are five of us and we are all around you.'
Small pieces of ground started to move.
Four lined up about thirty meters away, and the fifth came up close. It was not until the vehicles were less than fifty meters away that they were noticeable at all, and even then it was their movement more than shape that made them stand out from the landscape.
'Sexy,' breathed Sergeant Hawkeye. 'What are they, sir?'
'Think of the Three Wise Monkeys,' said Kilmara, 'and I'll tell you.'
'See, hear, and say nothing,' said Hawkeye, who had been cleared to Level One. 'Deal, sir.'
Fitzduane came over. 'It's a Swiss-made material,' he said. 'Typically Swiss. Bloody expensive, but the stuff seems to work. Basically, within a limited range, it picks up the color of the surrounding terrain and blends. And it also cuts way down on your thermal signature. It is not general-purpose camouflage, but if you know where you're going, it will do the job.'
Hawkeye was examining the Guntrack close up. 'If you deploy your weapons fully, you lose some of the camouflage effect on the top, sir,' she said. 'You were cheating a bit.'
Fitzduane smiled. 'We were testing lying-up during the day, Sergeant,' he said. 'But you've got a point.'
Kilmara was amused. 'We really came to see Dilger's Baby,' he said. 'Surprise me.'
Fitzduane pointed at what looked like a thick-walled pipe mounted on the back of a Guntrack. It had a crude, almost agricultural look, but the sight on top looked state-of-the-art. The whole thing, including the breech, was no
