| "Sheep Among Wolves?" | |||
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New York City, Lower Manhattan Safehouse 1 2005 hours, 23rd of May, 2008 Simon, the techno wizard for the whole of the SIA-Taskforce, like a lesser combo of Walter and Birkoff, Eric imagined, initiated the briefing at a nod from Gray. Gray, their commanding officer, so to speak, the one in charge, only Eric could tell the real authority, or power, at least, lay with Joshua. The fact that another wielded power over them without revealing his hand, irked Him from the start. He had to give it to them, Section 1 had taught him to expect such things, to deal with them, and most of all to make sure no-one but nobody knew he had any difficulty with it. So it was that Eric sat, but for his rigid posture, looking as passive and bored as all the other former Section 1 operatives around their side of the briefing table. He didn't glance at them, to do so would reveal lack of knowledge, curiosity, a weakness, but he could almost FEEL the apprehension and anticipation of the civilians and non-former-Section personnel as they listened intently to the briefing. As telling was their wonder at the seeming passivity of the former Section ops, showing as it did their lack of experience and time to build up such mechanisms. It wasn't that they were any less worked up by the immensity of what was being laid on them in the mission to come than the others were, Eric reflected, only that the Sec1 ops had learned to convince themselves that they didn't care, or at least to make it look that way. It was a coping mechanism. Once an operative or agent reached the point at which they truly did not care about their life, the lives of others, they became at best useless, at worst, a significant danger to themselves and their teammates. One had to care about something, or one would cease in focused effort. Bored as he appeared, Eric's mind resumed categorizing the information supplied, as he always had, into relevant categories, filing some of the information closer to the front of his mind, to be reviewed or looked into in more detail later. Need to know, Want to know, and who cares. Each of these classification applied to the information in each of the categories: Target: "Over the past year, allegedly unrelated shipments of lab equipment, animals, and chemicals have gone missing and unaccounted for. (Want to know) Intel was received earlier in the week pointing to a warehouse 25 kilometers north of Toronto that is housing a makeshift laboratory." (Need to know) Criteria for mission: "We believe the lab is experimenting on biological or chemical weapons, to either replicate those in existence or create new ones." (Who cares?) This seemed the case more and more often, Eric reflected, wondering if USAMRID was lying down on the job, or outsourcing the control work to agencies such as the Taskforce, or simply unable to handle the increasing workload volume on the decreasing budgets. Opposition: "Sources have confirmed the group behind this to be a well known and well funded organization known as Red Cell. " (Most definitely Need to Know) There's a .45mm hollow point to an anti-ballistic plate covered torso, if he'd ever heard an announcement with that effect. Red Cell was THE premier terrorist organization in the world, had been for many years, and was thought by those in the know to be ultimately responsible for most if not all of the major attacks on the West that had gone down. Their true nature and motivation was indecipherable, but for the acquisition of power in anarchy, for they worked through dozens of spin off and puppet terrorist cells. The connections to the parent organization were there, anti-terrorist leaders knew, but were either tenuous enough or secure enough that they could rarely be traced. It was only when a high ranking member of Red Cell took a personal interest in something a sub-cell was doing "on the ground"-such as had been the case in Cali- that anti-terrorists could hope to get ahold of them. To make things worse, their own structure, management, training, funding, and equipment made them very difficult to take down on the rare occasions when they could be found and infiltrated. The Sections had been trying since, Eric suspected, Walter had been young, and he had little doubt that Red Cell's continued existence to the present contributed to Oversight's felt need to restructure its own subordinate cells such as the Sections. Terrorist cells against terrorist cells, essentially, in a family feud with no discernible end. It was suggested, of course, that the West put together its full anti-terrorist might, the Sections, Delta, Seal Team six, the Mossad, SAS, etc. in a final campaign to wipe out terrorists and their infrastructure once and for all. A nice thought, but they couldn't, or wouldn't manage it, even against a definable enemy such as Iraq. Red Cell, most certainly, was not so definable. So it was that they fought these little brush wars and skirmishes back and forth, killing and being killed, and all without the knowledge or acknowledgment of most of the world's leaders, much less the public for which some of them allegedly fought. Oh well, such was the elite warrior's life. So he thought as his stomach knotted with what might be dread for a man of less experience, less self assurance. He, and he knew likewise of the other former Section 1 operatives, gave no sign of any significance attached to the announcement. " We believe that Salvatore D'dario, a financially independent businessman from Italy, and recently appointed leader of this group, is also there. We can not confirm this since . . . " (Want to know) blah blah blah. Who cares why you couldn't find him? You think he's there now, and you're sending us to get him, or get slaughtered in the process. Where's the tactical intelligence? Just the same, Eric continued to file the statements where he could access them if needed. "Therefore, there is a good chance he will be there." Objective: "Your objective is to recover intel from the Warehouse, destroy it, and if D'dario is there, bring him back alive." (Need to Know) Right. With how many people trying to take your head off with machine gun bullets, and team-members without the experience to hold their fire? But they would try, of course, would do their best, and here it came . . . Consequences: "There will be no excuses entertained for any harm that comes to him. This is an Absolute Directive, one that must be carried out and if not will be punishable under every law in the books...and some that aren't." (Who cares?) Translation into Section 1 ease: Failure is not an option. Those who can not perform satisfactorily will be canceled (i.e. killed). Eric restrained himself from glancing at Joshua, as his presence, the liaison to Oversight, meant the added meaning behind the already harsh words. Had it just been the SIA-Taskforce, death might not have been the only option other than success, the words might only have been so much motivational fluff. But with Oversight involved, every word had true meaning and power behind it, and the agents would be wise to take note and act accordingly. If only Eric had more dirt on Oversight, something he could use for insurance against retribution from them, but the best he could do was the affidavit of his service to them dropped anonymously in the safe deposit box of the only man he could trust, to be opened if an initial call was made and not followed by further calls every half day. Of course, he could not be certain he'd eluded any tails to the box, or that the man was safe, or could or would do anything about the package. Others, higher ranking operatives always seemed to have ways of preserving themselves. His life, he supposed, was due only to whatever attracted the beast Madeline to him, whatever kept her interested in his life. Clearly she had some vested interest in his success. What it was, he'd never been able to learn, but he suspected she had something to do with his having been brought in alive to begin with. Joshua took over the briefing. In many ways the oversized wrestler of a man was like Michael, with a similar bearing, movement, attitude, rank, and mode of operation. At least so Eric had heard concerning the rank and Mode of Operational Specialty. Yet a marked difference separated the two, and Eric was convinced all the more of his preference for his former superior over this one. Michael was stoic, lacking in emotion, or at least, any revelation thereof. It was from Michael more than anyone else that the operatives present had learned their bored, passive look and response to any crisis. It was because of his superior example that they could hide their emotions. Joshua, on the other hand, made no such effort, or lacked the capability. He was a passionate creature, but directed that passion into whatever he thought important. He showed his passion and emotions, and though they might interfere with his judgment and become a weakness, they were more likely to frighten those looking for an advantage. For whatever reason, or with whatever consequences, Joshua continued the briefing with clear pleasure as he laid down the profile before the agents. "The Warehouse is a bit off the beaten path and in a heavily wooded area. We'll be choppering in and out and since the weather doesn't seem to be cooperating, might I suggest a dramamine or two." Humor. Another coping mechanism, one lost on most of the agents. Cindy grimaced, and Timothy chuckled a little nervously under his breath. The ride would tough, always was when following the land under the radar, weather or no. Eric preferred other methods over pill popping, however, and would make sufficient use of them. "Sat pics show a simple perimeter that doesn't seem to be patrolled in any orderly fashion, but with no one on the ground it's hard to say. The Warehouse itself is a one level facility that does have patrol on a regular basis. We don't know what's on the inside but we pulled some thermals and believe the labs are built against the west side of the structure. We've estimated roughly two dozen men, but again, without anyone actually there it's hard to say." For a brief moment Eric considered requesting more intel on the guards, their training, movement patterns, armament, but from his experiences against Red Cell in the past, he already knew the answers. Movement would appear random but be precisely coordinated, guards in constant communication with head quarters, heavily armed and well trained. The uttermost stealth and or the uttermost speed and surprise would be necessary to get past them. The chopper infil had better work well, or they'd be on equal footing with the enemy in a fire fight, except that there would be two of the enemy for each of the agents. Bad odds on the best day. As Birkoff would have said, with a little half hidden concern, "projected seventy two percent Probability of Success with estimated 50% casualty rate." That was why "supper soldiers" like those seated in this room were chosen for such assignments. They were the only people in the world, aside, perhaps, from the best of Israeli's Mossad, who had odds even that high. Then, if things went off the wire they were all anonymous, expendable, and fully deniable. Who else to send? The ground team would move in first to recon a perimeter, do some surveillance, and place some thermal imaging and other devices to collect intel on the situation within the target structure. The air assault tactics, and further procedures would depend, to some degree, on what that intel showed. Adapt the tactics to the situation, or the situation will overcome the tactics. A good plan, except that they should have put him on the ground, where his covert reconnaissance experience might have come in handy. As it was, he'd drop out of a chopper, blow a hole in the roof, or some such, and go in shooting. Anyone in this room could do that. Not everyone in the room could place thermal sensors around a guarded perimeter without being noticed. But orders were orders, and one questioned them even less coming from Oversight than they did from the U.S. Army. "Once everyone is in and hostiles secured, any hardware, computer files, whatever, will be copied and brought back. Timothy, Jordan, you two will be handling this." So timothy, Eric's teammate, would tag along, perhaps fire a few rounds to defend himself, but his primary mission would be to collect digital and disk evidence of research, development, and other activities being conducted. Eric, Cindy, and Dennis, then, would have to be the primary assaulters, and then guard his and Jordan's backs as they worked their magic. "The rest of us will be setting explosives around the lab. We don't want to take down the whole warehouse, just the labs. This doesn't need to be a huge incident all over the media. We want to contain 'the unfortunate accident' to Toronto if we can. You will shoot to kill, except of course it's the Red Cardinal." Typical profile, simple enough, one they might hope to accomplish if they could overcome the resistance, but for one point. That sticky requirement that they bring someone back alive, the Red Cardinal, no less. One that would not come easily, and would probably sacrifice his own life if he could, to protect the information held within his brain. One who's significance was to be described, momentarily, by another who had encountered his predecessor, for the benefit of the non section personnel. Safara, brooding at the end of the table, spoke up in response to the question, her eyes focused on a distant point in memory. "It's not a what, it's a who, and it's the title given to the leader of Red Cell," Safara answered him flatly. The tone said, "The pores on the bottom of a leaf from which water is excreted," but hidden within was the bitterness, hatred, and grim resolve that resulted from a week of torture, and suffering, in which her greatest fears and weaknesses were exploited without mercy for the gain of what little information might be pulled from her. She had endured more than anyone Eric knew of that had lived through such treatment and maintained their sanity. Sure, she'd had issues to overcome, and he wouldn't be surprised if he were to find that her drugged appearance the other day had been, somehow, a result of her experiences with Red Cell. Such trials never really left you, you just had to find the best way of living with them, again, coping, and hoping no one realized how much it really hurt after the fact. Safara was an overcomer, Eric thought, and a worthy leader of her team. He hoped she could pull herself and them through another encounter with the Red Cardinal, for the sake of them all, for the sake of the western civilization. Yet it was not enough that she answered the question, that she had endured so much, that she had pulled through so far and come back kicking and ready for more. Joshua fixed her eyes with his own, challenging her to do something about the orders, to make something of it, to let the newcomers know the immensity of that about which they spoke so passively, to do anything concerning his power to order them into the very teeth of death. Once again Eric's resolve to watch the man, resist him given provocation, and even oppose him if necessary, increased a notch. At least he would be on the ground and in the path of as many bullets as the rest of them. Then, and only then, would they know his true heart, his true metal, and not just the facade he found expedient to show those who could not read through it. The confrontation, the test of wills ended, as these things usually did among such warriors, with a nod of acknowledgment. Whatever had been communicated silently, a functional understanding of sorts had been reached, a minor crisis averted. "We are like a pack of wolves" Eric thought. Each had its place in the hierarchy, jockeying for a better position, yet aware of how far they could go without causing or sustaining injury, and in the end doing what was best for the pack. It could be so frustrating sometimes, the game, yet so necessary if the overall mission of the agency was to be accomplished. Joshua, henceforth the alpha wolf until deposed, indicated that a box of palms should be passed around, and as Eric removed one, he explained. In essence it was the same as the routine back at Section 1, with the details they would need to carry out the mission on the palm. They were to memorize the intel and leave the device, being prepared to act on the information as if they had put it together themselves and knew it intimately. Come to think of it, little of practical significance had changed with the move to the SIA Taskforce. The organization on the platoon level was the same, the orders were the same, the tactics and equipment were the same. The philosophy and higher level organization might be a little different, but that failed to trickle down to the agents, and as for their cover lives, higher level operatives had been given the same in Section 1. Some things never changed, Eric thought as he rose to depart. At least he was still doing what he'd been born and trained to do. "Saf, Paige, Eric," he gestured to the three of them to stay. It was the alpha male, and as he turned back, waving for the rest of the Owl's Brood to continue without him, he stole himself for the worst. He noted, before Gray and Rebecca departed, their words of disapproval to the alpha. Yet, he was some how sure, it would not be the likes of them that would take him down in the end, as even the greatest must fall. Another note, another mental file, and he focused on the alpha's address to the three of them, leaders all among equals on the two teams. "Sit down," he said, and waited. Eric lingered a moment, standing in his independence, but it would get him no where to assert his status in the pack at this point, and he lacked sufficient provocation to risk a conflict. He sat with the others, and was joined by the alpha male. "I'm going to get straight to the point. You three, quite frankly, worry me a little with Red Cell being the target. I know everything that happened on the Cali mission in full detail. I don't care what you think about it, though I do care how you feel about it. If any of you feel for any reason that seeing these guys again is gonna trigger something...cause you to hesitate, anything, tell me now. This is not the Section, we aren't in the business of setting up Agents for failure. We can take you out of play and put you on tactical." Eric suppressed a wry smile, his face remaining blank, but his sarcastic thoughts were clear. "Yeah, I'll go berserk, cyclical, and kill everything in sight. I hate those beasts so much. Who knows, Operations last time, maybe you'll be caught in the crossfire this time, eh?" he said nothing, waiting for the line to be drawn, the point fully made, or for dismissal. Whatever the alpha male said, however he tried to prepare them, Eric had a mission before him. It was no more, no less than any other, and he would treat it as such. Targets to neutralize, others to be secured, intel to be collected. He had no lingering rage, nothing personal against any of those he would meet on this mission. Safara had taken care of those who had abused them in Cali. The rest were all terrorists, killers without remorse, no better or worse than any other terrorists, and chosen for an early death at his hand. When none of the three gave a sign, the alpha male continued. "You guys know Red Cell better than anyone else. You know how they move and how they operate. It's vital to this mission's success that you guys are the ones in the field. I know you guys will be fine, but you understand...I had to ask." They all nodded their heads softly. "Alright, then go get your gear." Nice pep talk. Maybe, if he really thought so, he might promote them to deal with some of the larger strategy of tracking down, infiltrating, and taking out the organization. But that would never happen, not as long as they remained so un-political, not as long as they remained agents, remained warriors, content with their status in their own pack. done with Paige and Eric, the alpha male released them, keeping Safara, and they exited. It took Eric a moment to realize that Paige was walking in step with him, edging closer as if to either direct him, or keep him from some attempt at escape. She wanted something with him. He slowed, pointedly, testing his theory, forcing her to turn toward him as she passed, in order to keep track of him. "Yes?" he enquired. She pointed down a side hall, and they moved, purposefully now, away from more populated regions. Return |
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