The Price is Right

Chapter Six ~ Make It Or Break It

The NSA agent finished the Power Point briefing and the lights came up. The conference room was windowless and supposedly totally secure, though I was betting it was internally bugged. On one side of the conference table sat the director of the NSA - National Security Advisory - a middle aged bureaucrat named Walter Maitland. With him was one of our less than favorite army generals and some assorted hangers on. The NSA is loosely the military or DoD [Department of Defense]'s intelligence - and I use that term loosely too - branch and these people were all connected not to the underworld of the CIA, for example, or the overt defense of the US like Homeland Security or even the regular armed forces. No these guys fell somewhere in between. Into the cracks, you might wanna say.

On my left sat Tank, looking wonderfully street thuggish today in his Rangeman black, accessorized with a blank-eyed scowl. On my right was Ranger who was wearing Armani and looking hot. Because I had been invited along as a monetary issues advisor, even I myself had dressed up for this meet. Remember me? My name is Anthony Stewart and I wore cammo cargoes and a RMPMC long-sleeved black tee under an old FBI Task Force flak vest and black Bates boots instead of my more customary ratty shorts and surfboard logo wifebeater and flipflops. I looked hot too. If I do say so myself.

Now Ranger was broadcasting politely puzzled vibes and saying nothing.

Director Maitland finally caved and ground out, "Well?"

Ranger said, "You don't need Rangeman for this job, any spec ops crew can set a few cakes of Semtex around and…." Blow things up, he left unsaid. "Even a crew of Navy SEALS could do it," he added. "They're supposed to be demolitions experts."

Maitland said, "We do not want the military involved."

Ranger glanced at me and then Tank. We thought you were the military, dude, ran through my mind and Ranger's eyes narrowed on mine.

Ranger said, "Let me recap: you want me to accept a contract to go to a thus far unspecified place and blow up this building. Which appears to be a mosque?"

Maitland looked relieved, poor guy. "Yes. Exactly."

Ranger asked, "Why?"

The general said, "You don't get to ask why, mister. You just take orders."

How rude!

Ranger said, "Uh huh."

I decided to get involved and said, "So, like where is this mosque anyway?"

Maitland said, "You don't need to know."

"Dude."

Ranger said, "To continue the recap: you want us to blow up an unspecified house of worship for unknown reasons, in an unknown place. As soon as possible. With no strings attached."

He meant these guys wanted "plausible deniability". Get real.

"And you're willing to pay us to do that."

Tank rumbled out, "Hard to blow up a place you don't know where the fuck it is. Sirs."

The mosque was still projected on the white wall across the room. It looked vaguely familiar to me, I have that total recall thing going, you know.

I said, "Rangeman, that sure looks like that mosque on First Street in Baltimore." I dredged the name out of the depths of my memory banks. "Congregation Heart of Islam Mosque and School."

Ranger and Tank both said, "Baltimore?"

The general turned red and Maitland went pale.

Okay, now we knew why the US military and CIA were being kept out of this: they don't do that stuff on American soil, or so they say.

Ranger finally said, "I don't blow up mosques. Or churches. Or nursery schools."

In my head I could hear him screaming Are you out of your freaking minds! But his handsome face stayed dialed somewhere between blank and serene.

One of the NSA flunkies said, "It's not a nursery school." Ranger fixed him with the dead-eyed glare and the poor man quailed.

Tank growled, "No schools."

Maitland said, "We have every reason to believe a terrorist cell is operating out of that building. If you set the charges for the right time - say during evening prayers - you'll stop them dead."

So to speak.

Ranger said, "No."

Maitland stood up and leaned his pasty white hands on the shiny mahogany table top. Eeeuuuw, cheap guy-manicure, yuck. And he leaned way over trying to get into Ranger's space. Maitland said, "Whaddya mean No? You don't get to say no."

"I am saying No. Think about the innocent bystanders, think about the innocent men there saying their prayers, think about the - who knows — janitor? Pizza delivery guy? What if there are evening classes with kids? Not to mention, many of those people are probably law abiding US citizens."

The General said, "Collateral damage," and we - the Rangeman contingent - all stared in disbelief. He added, "That's an order, Colonel Manoso." And our disbelief got so big even Ranger's eyes widened a fraction.

"You don't want to go there, general." Ranger pointedly did not say sir.

Ranger's military rank was murky at best, as were mine and Tank's and our other guys. Sure, Ranger was a full bird colonel - retired though, again sort of…. And the military usually gave him the courtesy of the rank and its privileges and god knows everyone obeys Ranger no matter what rank they call him. Or even if they just call him Boss. The point is, he wasn't really their colonel, if you know what I'm saying here. And if he was, the whole premise of non-official military involvement trotted pertly out the proverbial barn door.

The General said, "Just remember, I made you, and I can damn well break you."

Huh?

I'd love to see you try, thought Ranger, my own mind catching his thought. The snort that came from my left was Tank smothering a laugh, I was pretty sure. We, meaning the Rangeman group, all stood up -'cos why hang around for this demented bullshit, right? - and Maitland flopped back in his chair, looking bug-eyed and wretched.

He said, "Manoso. This is crucial. It has to be done."

Ranger made a tiny gesture with his hand and Tank and I both sat again.

"Maitland, this is how it works. First, you call off your pet lapdog general." The General huffed with anger. "Second, I shouldn't have to keep explaining this to you people but here it is. Again. I'm a mercenary, I don't take orders. I don't take threats or bribes and I don't take credit cards. I take requests. And I take cash." His eyes cut to the general who looked like he might stroke out. Geez we shoulda brought Bobby, we may need a medic.

Ranger didn't wait for a reply. He went on. "If your agency can show us intell implicating certain men at that mosque, if you can show me some evidence of terrorist activity, I will take the private contract to remove those persons. In a discreet and timely manner. The fee is -" he named a wildly extravagant sum, Ranger was pissed - "per man. But otherwise I think you all have me — and my company - confused with something out of a bad Die Hard remake."

He looked at me. I shrugged. "Mission Impossible, man?" I offered.

Tank said, "Top Gun, " and we all did double-takes.

"Whatever," said Ranger.

He waited but the NSA group had no answer at that moment.

He added, "Tank, Antonio. We can go."

"Wait!"

We looked back from the doorway. Maitland was begging now, hands open beseechingly. He said quickly, "Yes. Ok. I - I am sure your method will be safer. Expensive. But - "

Ranger repeated, "Incontrovertible evidence, please. And prompt wire transfers, US dollars of course. You have my numbers."

tbc

a/n if you have any issues with the guys' ESP please read the intro quotes from JE, in the prolog. enjoy.