Page 30 of Hot Soldier's Rescue

Raoul laughed. “Did she cost you money on that deal?”

Ted snorted. “You wouldn’t ask that if you’d met her. She knows more about weapons than anyone I’ve ever met, and she’s a far sight meaner than me.”

Raoul’s grin widened. “What’s she up to now?”

“She’s in jail. She killed some Americans in a nightclub bombing and the Feds caught up with her.”

The look in Raoul’s eyes was far too knowing. The bastard already knew exactly what had happened to Annika Cantori. That had been a test. Ted swore silently. Had he passed?

Raoul spit on the floor. “Bah. American federales.”

The Army of Freedom man turned away and called for coffee. When steaming mugs of black liquid were set before them, Ted lifted his in a silent toast. Crud. His hand was shaking. He lowered the drink quickly.

His companion relaxed and commenced joking about do-gooder nuns who ran around the jungle. Although the subject made him much more tense than he dared let on, at least it appeared that he’d successfully navigated the minefield of Raoul’s questions about his Drago Cantori identity. But it had been a damned close call. The way Enrique had explained it, Raoul was the big kahuna in this Army of Freedom outfit. If he wasn’t a hundred percent sure what the real Drago Cantori looked like, odds were no one else in the organization was, either.

Now that he’d passed this particular gauntlet, his fake identity should hold up going forward. Ted let out a careful breath.

Raoul was speaking again. “…tell me. What are the odds you can obtain more…powerful…weapons than just small arms?”

Ted took another sip of coffee before answering. This was exactly why he’d been sent out on this mission. To find out what the real Drago Cantori had been up to before he’d been killed in the Cayman Islands. Ted considered his companion. If he appeared too eager to talk to Raoul, the man would become even more suspicious than he already was. Respond too cautiously, and Raoul would find himself another arms dealer.

Finally, Ted replied, “Depends on how much more powerful we’re talking. What did you have in mind?”

“Something impressive.”

Ted leaned back in his chair and smile expansively. “I can do impressive. Do you prefer a particular flavor of impressive?”

Raoul frowned, hesitating. Wow. He must be contemplating something serious if it gave even him pause to say it aloud.

Ted helped the guy out, prompting, “Tell me this. What is your target? Soldiers? Civilians? A building? A city? Are you after maximum damage or maximum casualties?”

The insurgent seemed to relax as Ted talked calmly of weapons of mass destruction as if they were a realistic possibility.

“An airplane. Maximum casualties.”

Ted nodded slowly, fighting like crazy to hide his shock. Maximum casualties meant an airliner full of civilians. Since when were Colombian freedom fighters in the business of blowing up passenger jets? That was the traditional purview of straight terrorists.

The hot, strong coffee suddenly tasted bitter in his mouth. He answered evenly, “It takes a missile to shoot down an airplane. They’re expensive and relatively difficult to obtain. Frankly, a daisy chain of small explosions in a populated place would kill as many or more people as knocking a jet out of the sky. And it would cause a hell of a lot more immediate chaos. Not to mention the explosives for something like that are cheap and easy to get. Keep in mind that using a surface-to-air missile properly takes training. It also takes tight internal discipline for an organization to pull off something like shooting down an airplane.”

Raoul grimaced, which spoke volumes about what he thought of his own organization’s internal discipline. Duly noted.

Ted leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Don’t get me wrong. I can get you a missile, no problem. I’m just suggesting a cheaper and easier alternative, too.” Grinning, he added, “Let it never be said I’m not an ethical guy.”

The rebel leader laughed heartily at the irony, breaking the tension of the moment as Ted had intended for it to do.

Raoul answered without hesitation, “I want the missile. Several of them, in fact. Can you deliver?”

Several? This guy was planning something on the scale of 9/11 then? Stunned, his thoughts slid to the next logical question. Who was the target? Would the man go after a single airport, or maybe many airports scattered across a nation or several nations? Would it be a simultaneous attack for maximum shock value, or several individual attacks spread out over time so as not to look related to one another?

Ted hid his dismay carefully. This was exactly why he was here. To answer those sorts of questions. His thoughts churned on. If Raoul aimed his attack at airports in places like Caracas and Bogota, the people of Colombia who supported the Army of Freedom would turn on them in fury. The rebels would lose all support. Unless—his thoughts derailed sharply—unless the target was not in Colombia.

Was this guy looking to become a player on the international stage? But surely Raoul knew the international response would be fierce and fast. Was the rebel counting on that to rally support from within Colombia? Maybe use the inevitable retaliation from the attacked country to topple the Colombian regime? Unite the various insurgent groups against a common external foe?

Who was the target? As if it took a rocket scientist to deduce that answer. Who better to cast as the invading villain than the United States? South Americans already resented the perceived high-handedness with which America had dealt with them in the past. The Colombian government had spent years shouting about how American oil companies were trying to rip off the Colombian people for the country’s petroleum reserves. Hating America would be an easy sell to many Colombians, particularly to those mired in poverty and frustration.

He could see it now. This guy would shoot down a bunch of American airplanes, the U.S. would figure out who did it, they’d come down to Colombia to take out the Army of Freedom, and the Colombian people would see it as an attack of a larger bully upon a small, poor, local group of freedom fighters. It was a decent plan, actually. Worse, it stood a chance of working.

Ted set down his coffee cup. “Surface-to-air missiles are definitely obtainable. They are expensive, though, and must be moved discreetly. I have the resources to do that. The question is, do you?”

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