Stony Man - Triple Strike Part 11

On her quick trip down the hall, Price used her comm link to talk to the blacksuit on duty in the radio room. "Put a priority call through to Hal Brognola," she ordered. "Tell him that Aviano is under attack and I need him back here ASAP." "Will do, ma'am."

Brognola was probably on the way to the airfield for the flight back to the Farm with the President's decision about the nerve-gas rockets as it was. But with this new escalation of the situation, they needed to talk immediately, and even encrypted radio didn't cut it.

The computer room looked a little busier than usual. Hunt Wethers had a monitor screen showing a satellite view of the air base. Akira Tokaido looked like he was running radio intercepts of the traffic of the Aviano security forces, and Kurtzman had Katz's face on his screen.

"...and so far," Katz spoke loudly to be heard over the scream of sirens and rumble of explosions in the background, "we haven't taken any hits. I've got everyone else under cover and-"

Just then there was a thunderous explosion that sounded close in the background.

Katz looked as unflappable as ever as he turned away from the video pickup to see what the noise was. "We just took an RPG round in the chain-link fence," he said, "but it didn't penetrate. RPG screen works every time."

Price leaned down so she could be seen by the video camera. "Katz," she said, "you'd better get your b.u.t.t under cover, as well. I don't want to lose you and have to put the Ironman in charge over there. I'd never hear the end of it from Hal."

Katz grinned. "He and Rosario are a little busy right now anyway. They're outside the perimeter try-ing to knock out a mortar."

"Just get your b.u.t.t under cover until it's over," Price snapped. "That's an order." "Yes, ma'am."

Price's comm link beeped and she answered it. "Price."

"Mr. Brognola's inbound," the blacksuit in the radio room stated.

"Good. Tell him to come directly to the computer room."

Aviano Air Base, Italy CAm~ LYONS DROVE tO within fifty yards of the mor-tar before the terrorists caught sight of the van. One of the men handing annno tO the loader shouted a warning as he grabbed for the Beretta subgun slung over his shoulder. A long burst of 9 mm rounds cut across the front of the vehicle, smas.h.i.+ng the headlights, radiator and bodywork.

"Hang on!" Lyons shouted as he hunched lower in the cab. Cranking the wheel hard over, he trod on the brakes to spin the van, sliding it broadside to the enemy fire. Killing the engine, he was out of his door before the vehicle stopped rolling, his man-killing Python filling his fist. His first two shots took out the thug with the subgun, and another two slugs scattered the rest of the crew.

Biancahales was out of the driver's door of the cab right on Lyons's heels. Crouching behind the hood, he used the engine block for armor as he aimed the M-16/M-203 over-and-under combo and triggered the grenade launcher. The 40 nun round arched out and dropped long, well behind the mortar. The black puff of smoke that marked the detonation didn't seem to affect the enemy.

Ejecting the empty, he shoved another round into the launcher to try it again.

The entire gun crew was firing at them now, their 120 mm mortar forgotten. That was a good start, Ly-ons observed as he snapped off the last two rounds in the Colt's cylinder.

Biancahales dropped his second grenade right next to the mortar's base plate. The little warhead didn't have much of a burst radius, only five yards, but the crew was bunched up, well within that range. Two of them went down from the blast, and, flipping over to the M-16, he dumped a full magazine into the rest.

By the time he dropped down to eject his empty magazine, Lyons had his Python back in action, and four .357 Magnum rounds later, it was all over.

Stony Man Farm "How BAD IS IT.9" Brognola looked a little out of breath from his sprint from the chopper landing pad.

"We don't know yet," Price answered. "But none of the team has been hit."

"It's a major attack, though," Kurtzman said. "Mortars, RPGs and the whole nine yards."

"I'd say that something we've been doing has stirred them up." Brognola sounded satisfied.

"I'm not so sure about that," Kurtzman replied. "Since they aren't directly targeting the CP, there must be something else behind this. d.a.m.ned if I know what, though."

That wasn't exactly what Brognola wanted to hear right then. He was having a difficult enough time explaining the situation to the President as it was without this new twist.

Aviano Air Base, Italy SOMEONE IN ONE of the NATO security units finally called up armored cars and sent them in against the terrorists in the ditch outside of the perimeter. The vehicles weren't well enough armored to withstand RPG rounds and would be taken out of action if they took a hit. But once they could get close enough to the chain-link fence, they would be protected because the warheads would detonate when they hit the wire.

One of the vehicles took a hit on the way in, but the crew was able to bail out before the fuel tanks went up in a roiling ball of flame. With their turret machine guns hammering, the other cars raced for the fence. When the vehicles' charge brought them to the wire, the baffle was effectively over.

With no way to knock out the vehicles, the terrorism couldn't stand up to the blazing turret guns. They turned and fled only to be cut down.

"CAN YOU SEND someone out to pick us up?" Lyons called the CP. "Our van is kind of shot up."

"Wait there," Katz replied. "I'll send Gadgets and Hammer to pick you up."

"Also, tell the UN guys that there's six bodies and a mortar up here for their trophy room."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

The next morning, the damage to the air base looked worse than it really was. Unfortunately, though, al-most a dozen casualties had resulted from the attack, and many more men had been wounded. But the damaged aircraft and vehicles could be replaced and the facilities quickly repaired. Aviano would be back in full operation in a couple of days at the most. Already, the runways were clear enough for the fighters of the PROFOR Bosnian patrol to take off on schedule.

The only good thing that came out of the attack was that both the Italians and NATO were taking the terrorist threat seriously now. Along with the infantry reinforcements inside the perimeter, armored vehicles and foot patrols were working all the areas around the base within mortar range. Security check-points had been set up along all of the roads leading in and were screening all traffic.

None of this, however, affected the small building that housed the Stony Man CP. Although the chain-link fence had soaked up one stray RPG rocket, the CP had gone untouched; none of the mortar rounds had fallen near them. So, while the workmen were putting the base back to good working order, Katzenelenbogen went over the information he had just received from the Farm before calling Striker with the bad news that the mission had been extended.

The new mission didn't sit well with Katz. For one thing, the team wasn't equipped to stay in the field that long. The ammunition and ration loads they had been dropped in with were the standard three-day load appropriate for their original s.n.a.t.c.h mission. With the fighting they had done so far, they would be running low on ammunition, far too low for them to get into a sustained firefight. And while the rations weren't as critical as firepower, a fighting man had to eat, as well as shoot.

Plus he didn't like the odds the team would be facing, particularly when the opposition knew that they were there. This would be the third time that they had gone up against the same target, and the element of surprise had long since evaporated. They'd been very lucky to have pulled off the C~t30 hijacking, but counting on luck alone was a good way to get killed.

At the bottom of it, though, was the fact that he didn't like anything that was a.s.sociated with chemical weapons of any kind. As far as he was concerned, anyone who was found with them should be stood against a wall and shot dead.

Something as serious as the presence of chemical weapons in the area should be handed over to the UN PROFOR, and they should send in troops who were equipped to deal with a chemical environment. The Stony Man warriors didn't even have gas masks with them. Not that they would do any good against what Kurtzman thought was involved.

If Kurtzman was right, the Iranians had s.h.i.+pped nerve-gas weapons to Bosnia. The gas involved was most likely satin, the original German nerve gas of World War II vintage rather than the more modem VX nerve agent. But sarin was deadly. In fact home-made satin had been used in the terrorist attacks on the Tokyo subways, and a gas mask was no defense against it. A single drop of it on the skin could kill, to say nothing of a lungful of droplets.

With the next round of Bosnian elections scheduled to take place in the near future, finding the targets for the rockets would be no problem. When the Serbs and Croats gathered to vote, a single round would kill hundreds if not thousands or tens of thousands of people. And since Kurtzman's information indicated that the Iranian chemical warheads had been mounted on Katusha rocket rounds, they could be fired from a distance great enough to allow the attackers to escape the effects of the gas.

The results would be complete disruption of the peace process and a chance for the Muslim Bosnians to eradicate their enemies like so many flies. And by the time the UN PROFOR could react to the threat, the Bosnian problem would have been solved by the destruction of the non-Muslim population in another ethnic cleansing.

The Western world would view such an attack with sheer horror, but Katz knew that the Iranians couldn't care less about Western public opinion. As long as they had their oil reserves, they were immune to that kind of pressure. It was one of G.o.d's cruelest jokes to have given those people a monopoly on a commodity that the world needed as much as it did. But until someone figured out a way for the modem technological world to get along without oil, the Islamic oil-producing nations would continue to call the tunes to the detriment of the rest of the world.

Once he had thoroughly backgrounded himself, Katz reached for the radio to give Bolan the bad news.

Bosnia DRAGAN ASDIK WAS man enough to admit that he had seriously miscalculated the danger that the Yankees presented. This was one time that Major Nas-lin's paranoia had been accurate. Whoever those men were, they were good and they still represented a danger. Both the vehicle and foot patrols had failed to find them, and according to the radar, no helicopters had flown into the area to take them out.

There was a faint chance that they had simply walked far enough away that a chopper could come in to pick them up and not be spotted, but he didn't think that had happened. His gut instinct told him that they were hiding in the mountains and waiting. The problem was that he didn't know what they were waiting for.

Naslin had been in almost hourly contact with his superiors in Tehran, and they were concerned about the Yankees, too. The Iranians were convinced that the actions against their agents in Italy were defi-nitely connected with the activities of the commandos in Bosnia. Asdik didn't see the connection, but the Iranians were certain that it was there. In fact Naslin was on the radio to them again, and Asdik was waiting to see what further measures they wanted to take.

When the major came out of the radio room, he wasn't smiling. "Tehran is concerned about your se-curry, and I have been ordered to move the chemical rockets out of here before the Yankees find them."

"Where will you take them?"

"I am to take them to the forest camp where the rocket launchers are."

Asdik didn't take offense at the implication that his security was lax. He knew that it wasn't, and he was well aware that a small group of well-trained men could stay hidden for as long as they wanted. In fact he was glad to see the deadly rockets leave his area. He had never been comfortable having them stored so close to his fortress. His men had gas masks, but he knew that they would be no defense if one of the rockets malfunctioned.

"So your plan is to go ahead, then?"

"Yes, it is." Naslin smiled. "There was never a doubt about it." Unfortunately, Asdik thought.

Now that he had permission from Tehran to act, Naslin was in a hurry to get the nerve-gas rocket rounds joined up with the modified Katusha rocket launchers waiting at his other base camp. The launchers were an old Russian weapon dating back to WW II, but they hadn't outlived their usefulness. If nothing else, their rugged simplicity made them the perfect launchers for the chemical rockets.

The bulk of Naslin's freedom fighters weren't at Asdik's fortress. Another camp a hundred miles to the north had been established to hide the Islamic commandos who had been secreted away. Unlike the Bosnian's ancient castle, it was a proper military camp with interlocking fortifications, heavy weapons and facilities to support the troops until the time was ready for them to go into action again.

After the rockets were joined up with the launchers, the select teams who would launch the rockets would leave from there to make their attacks on the Serb and Croatian towns. Backing them up would be other units ready to exploit the results of the gas attacks. If G.o.d allowed the plan to be carried out, the major Serb and Croatian cities and strong points would soon be in Bosnian Muslim hands. And once that was accomplished, the new Bosnian government would ask their Iranian brothers for help.

That would be the signal for a ma.s.sive airlift of Iranian troops and equipment to start. Tehran had the supplies stockpiled at the airfields, and the aircraft and the troops were standing by for their orders. In a matter of days, the green flags of Islam would proudly fly over a completely Muslim Bosnia.

MACK BOLAN WAS GRIM FACED when he called the remaining Phoenix Force warriors together. "I just talked to Katz, and we have a situation."

Everyone on the team had been around the military long enough to recognize trouble coming when he heard it. The use of the word situation could only be bad news. And the look on Bolan's face only reinforced their misgivings.

"The Farm thinks that we might have stumbled into a real homet's nest."

"Whatever gave them that idea?" Encizo quipped. "I thought we were on a vacation in the mountains hundreds of miles from friendly territory with no way to get back except booting it."

"It's just become a little more complicated than that," Bolan said grimly. "The Bear thinks that the Iranians and the Bosnians here are getting ready to launch a chemical attack on the Serb and Croatian strongholds in Bosnia."

"From here?" Hawkins asked.

"That's what they want us to find out," Bolan replied. "Hal's convinced that Kurtzman's theory is worth looking into, and that means the Man wants us to do it."

"Does that mean making a raid on that rock pile again?" James asked.

"Maybe not," Bolan answered.

"I sure as h.e.l.l hope not," Hawkins said. "'Cause I kind of used up all my chips flying in there the first time. And since I don't have another parasail handy, I don't think that flapping my arms is going to cut it."

"I don't think that'll be necessary," Bolan replied. "If these guys have been stockpiling chemical weapons, I don't think they'd want them stored that close to their headquarters. They may be fanatics, but we can't count on them being that stupid."

"Hammer said something about seeing some of them carrying gas masks in the castle," Encizo re-called. "And I remember thinking that was a little strange because tear gas isn't a usual terrorist weapon."

"That is an indicator," Bolan agreed. "But I think it's more likely that if they actually do have those weapons on hand, they're keeping them in the caves where they stored the wreckage of that plane."

"At least we know where they are, then," James said. "We shouldn't have too much trouble getting in there."

"Depending on how many troops they have guarding them," Manning cautioned. "If you'll remember, they had a couple of dozen guys there when they moved the wreckage of the major's plane."

"We'll find that out tonight," Bolan said. "But in the meantime, I want everyone to get as much sleep today as they can."

Aviano Air Base, Italy SINCE THERE WAS nothing he could do to help with Bolan's and Phoenix Force's situation, Carl Lyons went back to working on the problem of the local bad guys. This situation had escalated to the point that they needed to do more than just make raids on safehouses. It was time to go after the head of the beast and cut it off.

"How much of this intel have you given to the UN?" Lyons asked Katz about the computer files they had stolen from the garage.

"None of the raw information," the Israeli replied. "Hal didn't want us to let the cat out of the bag, as it were. There would have been too many questions asked about how we had obtained it."

"Good." Lyons smiled grimly.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is, that means we still have a chance at taking out that Lebanese guy who seems to be in charge of the Italian operation."

Katz closed his weary eyes and took a deep breath. Running interference for the Ironman and his side~ kicks could be a full-time job, particularly when Able Team had too much time on its hands. "I a.s.sume that you're thinking about hunting him down and making him pay for the damage his men did to the air base?"

"Something like that." Lyons shrugged. "But I was thinking more along the line of killing him and leaving his body in a ditch somewhere as an object lesson. As we have seen, he's a danger to himself and others. If someone doesn't take this guy out soon, he's likely to pop up somewhere else and cause even more trouble."

"I agree," Katz said. "But I was thinking of leaving that job to the local authorities. After all, they have a much bigger stake in that than we do."

"But," Lyons said, "we have the information about this guy, and they don't. Just call it doing our part for creating a safer tomorrow. It won't be the first time that we've helped another country take out its garbage."

Katz had to admit that there was truth to that. "Okay," he conceded, "but let's sit down and work out a plan of action first. Racing around northern Italy with a trunk full of weapons might not be a particularly good idea right now. The cops are likely to shoot you first and ask for your pa.s.sports later."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I was thinking of doing something a little more subtle. Your usual 'bull 'em and bash 'em' routine has worked well so far, but the Lebanese will be on guard against it by now. If he's any good at all, he'll be ready and waiting to blow you guys away the next time you show up to bust one of his hideouts."

Lyons had to admit that there was merit in Katz's a.s.sessment, there always was. He had been an ant.i.terrorist fighter as long as there had been terrorists. "What's your recommendation, then?"

"Let's do a real thorough background on this guy and find out where he lives. Knocking out his satellite facilities is good clean fun, but if you want to nail him personally, you need to know where he lives.' '

"That's fair enough."

"And," Katz continued, "I want to get the Farm to fall in line on it. I'll get them to go through the computer files we sent them with a fine-tooth comb and see if they can dig him out."

"What if Hal gets excited and tries to tell us to mind our own business?"

"I'11 take care of Hal," Katz vowed. "I think this has gotten complicated enough that he'll be glad to have you put at least this part of it to bed."

"He'd better approve it," Lyons growled. "I don't like being shot at."

"How do you think the NATO guys feel?"

"That's why I want to nail that b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I don't want to feel the same way they do."