Patrick and Hal followed Martindale into a secure conference room in the main headquarters building of the Sky Masters Inc. campus, a large industrial and research center in what was the old Blytheville Air Force Base in Arkansas, now called the Arkansas International Jetport. They warmly greeted Patrick's brother Paul, one of the first members of the Night Stalkers and the most experienced Tin Man battle armor user, along with Chris Wohl, a retired Marine Corps master sergeant and Hal Briggs's longtime partner. Martindale took his place at the apex of the conference table while Patrick secured the room, then motioned for Chris Wohl to begin:
'We are closely monitoring developments on the border between Libya and Egypt,' Wohl began. 'Libya has recently sent several thousand troops to the Sudan, on Egypt's southern border, supposedly to support the president of the Sudan against rebel insurgents that are using Chad as a safe haven. However, the insurgency was crushed last year, and Libyan forces remain deployed in three Sudanese bases-all within a day's armored vehicle march of five major Egyptian oil fields. Egypt has reinforced its armed forces in the region and maintains a rough parity with Libyan forces.'
'So Libya wants to take Egypt's oil fields?'
'That's nothing new,' Martindale said, 'although they've preferred in the past to try to form a partnership with Egypt in developing its oil reserves. However, Egypt wants to form a consortium with some Western oil companies to tap its oil fields.'
'Lots more money that way, I'd guess,' Briggs offered.
'Exactly right-and Exxon Mobil and Shell don't bring troops with them to the contract-signing ceremonies,' Martindale said. 'The consortium wants to build a fourhundred-and-sixty-mile-long pipeline from southern Egypt to the Mediterranean Sea capable of shipping two million barrels of crude per day, along with building refineries. It's a three-billion-dollar project that Libya desperately wants to get involved with.'
'Doesn't Libya already export oil?' Paul McLanahan asked.
'Yes, but with U.S. sanctions still in place, they don't ship much to the West,' Martindale replied. 'The new president of Libya, who calls himself King Idris the Second, is even worse than Muammar Qadhafi. Idris, whose real name is Zuwayy, has reorganized the Muslim Brotherhood, the group of Muslim fanatics that seeks to make every Arabic-speaking nation in the world a theocracy governed and steered by strict fundamentalist doctrine. Libya, Sudan, and Yemen are solidly in his hip pocket; Palestine, Lebanon, Syria, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, and Jordan are leaning toward him; Kuwait, Bahrain, Qatar, the United Arab Emirates, Oman, and Egypt so far oppose him.'
'And the Muslim Brotherhood has been linked with the assassination of President Salaam of Egypt and his wife,' Hal Briggs added. 'Sounds like recruitment by intimidation to me. Join-or else.'
'It looks like Zuwayy's going further than just assassination,' Martindale said. 'Sergeant Wohl?'
'Intelligence experts suspect that Libya has imported surface-to-surface missiles from someone-China, Pakistan, Russia, we don't know for sure yet-and has set up several bases from which to stage attacks into Egypt to destroy their military forces,' Wohl went on. 'The rumor is, the missiles have chemical, biological, and nuclear warheads, as well as conventional high-explosives. We have been tasked to find those missiles, identify them, and destroy them if possible.'
''Intelligence experts'?' Patrick asked suspiciously. 'Who might they be, sir? I know we're not getting any cooperation from U.S. agencies.'
Kevin Martindale looked at Patrick with a mixture of irritation and surprise in his features. 'A group hired by the Central African Petroleum Partners,' Martindale replied uneasily.
'You mean the oil consortium with a stake in the Egyptian oil fields?'
'Do you have a problem working for them, General?' Martindale asked.
'Sir, I want to head off trouble as much as anyone,' Patrick said. 'And I certainly don't like Zuwayy any more than I liked Qadhafi and the terrorist organizations they sponsor. But I don't like the idea of being a hired gun for an oil cartel, either.'
'Would you like them better if I told you we would be getting our first paychecks out of this?' Martindale asked. 'That's the difference between this mission and all the others-we are given a target, but we're also well compensated for our services.'
Patrick fell silent, but the eagerness was evident in Hal Briggs's and Paul McLanahan's eyes. The reason was clear: They had the most to lose and the most to gain out of this. Martindale, Patrick, and Chris Wohl all had government pensions waiting for them; in addition, Patrick was a vice president of Sky Masters Inc., for which he was very well paid. But Hal Briggs resigned his Air Force commission well before retirement age, and Paul McLanahan had only a small disability check from the Sacramento Police Department, where he was a sworn officer for only a few weeks before being retired with a one-hundred-percent disability. Neither of them had earned any money in many months, and had been relying on gifts from Martindale and Patrick.
'How much are we talkin' about here, Mr. President?' Hal asked.
'I accepted a twenty-million-dollar contract for our services, plus a bonus for complete destruction of all known missile installations,' Martindale replied. 'I will pay every man in this room twenty-five thousand dollars a day, beginning as soon as you accept this mission.'
'Per…day…'
'Our support team members will earn ten thousand dollars… and yes, that's per day, tax free,' Martindale went on. 'The Night Stalkers will pay Sky Masters Inc. full retail price for the equipment and supplies we use. Sound okay with you, gentlemen?' Hal slapped his hands together excitedly, and Paul looked jubilant-even Chris Wohl nodded in approval, even though he wore his same expressionless warrior's mask. Martindale studied their faces, then settled on Patrick's. 'All right with you, General?' he asked.
Patrick looked at Paul and Hal's happy faces. Paul gave his brother an excited slap on the back-it had been a long time since he had seen him smile like that. 'Yes, sir,' Patrick finally responded. 'It's okay with me.'
'Outstanding,' Martindale said. He punched up instructions into a computer, and the results were projected onto a large flat-panel monitor on the conference-room wall. 'The intelligence we've received indicates several new Libyan missile bases scattered around the country. I'll leave it up to you and your support team to figure out the best way to proceed, but after speaking with Master Sergeant Wohl here, he suggests a soft probe of the most likely bases, followed by an unmanned aircraft strike to soften up the base's defenses, followed by a hard-target penetration. It's up to you-bui I hasten to remind you of a substantial performance bonus for each one of you if the danger to the consortium's pipeline is eliminated. Enough said. Good luck, and good hunting.'
As was his custom, Martindale never stuck around for the details-the planning, training, organization, logistics, or movement of the Night Stalkers was never something he was concerned about. He gave marching orders, then left it to the teams to carry out the plan. Within minutes, they heard his helicopter depart, on its way to his next meeting. Patrick had little idea what he did, where he went, or whom he spoke to as the former president of the United States.
'Now we're talking serious bucks!' Briggs exclaimed happily. 'Man, I was hoping we'd get into jobs like this-I was thinking I'd have to go back to Georgia and help my granddad in his kennels and get a real job.'
'I'm not happy about accepting this job,' Patrick admitted. 'Some big oil cartel is asking us to put our asses on the firing line to help them keep their profits safe. We don't know anything about the cartel; and since the assassination of President Salaam, we don't know which way the Egyptian government is going to go. And I don't trust any intelligence info we get from private sources. They answer to investors and bosses, not to the grunts.'
Hal fell silent, looking at the ground. Chris Wohl nodded. 'All good points, sir,' he said. 'Our first priority would be to get our own intel-a few overflights from some NIRTSats should do it.' NIRTSats, or Need It Right This Second Satellites, were small, low-Earth orbit photo and radar reconnaissance satellites designed for a specific mission. They were extremely valuable in passing detailed intelligence information to tactical units; but because they were in very low orbits, their duration was usually only a few days or a couple weeks, and they carried only small positioning thrusters and very little fuel, so their orbits could not be changed or even fine-tuned to any great extent. He looked at Patrick evenly, then added, 'If you agree to do it with us.'
'You don't need my approval, Chris.'
'Pardon me, sir, but I do… we do,' Wohl said.
' 'Fraid so, Muck,' Hal said. 'The Night Stalkers may be a private nonmilitary unconventional action team, but the bottom line is: We're a team.' '
'We don't do anything unless we all agree to do it,' Paul chimed in. 'One person has veto power. One 'no,' even one Tm not sure,' and we scrub the mission.'
