Free Hostile Fire by Keith Douglass Page B

drunk and waiting until we need him. I’ve talked with the deputy director, but can’t get any confirmation. Even if he is a sleeper, the only one who would know is the director and he wouldn’t tell us. You’ll have to contact Jones and see if he’ll help. If he won’t, you’ll have to rely on three other sources who might be able to assist you, and might not. You’ll memorize their names and contact points before you leave The Farm.
    “All this time we’re supposed to stay undercover in a land where every man, woman, and child have been indoctrinated to hate Americans?” Rafii asked. “Isn’t that a huge problem for us?”
    “It’s larger than huge. This is also a volunteer mission. Any of you SEALs can opt out at any time right up to boarding the VC-11 day after tomorrow morning.”
    “We’ve had tougher operations,” Murdock said. “We’ll want a complete description of Mr. Jones, and any identifying marks so we can be sure it’s him before we spill our guts to him. We don’t want to find out he’s been replaced by an Iraqi superspy just waiting for somebody to contact him.”
    “No worry there, Commander. Jones is talking to us through e-mail out of one of the popular Internet cafes that have opened. It’s all in the clear and in a kind of doubletalk we used twenty years ago, but damned effective.”
    “Then can you contact him by e-mail?”
    “No chance. We don’t want to alert watchers he’s getting anything in return from his e-mail talk.”
    He let that soak in a moment, then went back to business talking in Arabic. He made sure all of them, especially Ching, knew the words he used and what they meant. It would be a long, slow process.
    Two hours later, Ching grinned. “Hey, I’m getting some of this chatter. It’s a lot like Spanish. Not the same, but there are similar sounds.”
    “Now say that in Arabic,” the leader told him in Arabic. Ching snorted and tried, but he didn’t have all the right words. The lessons continued.
    In another building the rest of the platoon, under the watchful eyes of the J.G., worked over the weapons choices.They would keep a number of H&K MP-5D4s. A man in blue coveralls and wearing a blue hat that had “CIA Weapons” embroidered on it shook his head when J.G. Gardner said they would be taking seven Bull Pups with them.
    “That weapon has ties to the U.S.,” the CIA man said. “I can’t approve your taking it.”
    “H and K makes the body of the weapon, and three other firms are involved in all the components,” Gardner said. “The gun isn’t even in production yet, so there can be no tie-in with any country. It’s got to be with us. It turns any infantryman into an artillery piece.”
    Gardner handed his Bull Pup to the man. “Take a look at it. The CIA doesn’t have them yet. These are prototypes made especially for our platoon. Nobody else in the world has this weapon. Besides that, almost nobody else knows that it is operational by us. We’re taking them in.”
    That decided, Gardner selected other weapons that they would take. Each man picked out a hideout weapon for his ankle. They at last agreed on the German Sauer M1914. It held a six-round magazine of .32 ACP and weighed in at 570 grams, or a pound and four ounces. They would all have the same weapon so they could share ammo if they needed to. They would keep the H&K PSG1 sniper rifle, and the EAR, the Enhanced Acoustic Rifle, that shot out a blast of compressed air for over four hundred yards and put any troops down and unconscious for four hours but left no aftereffects on the victims.
    The CIA weapons man was fascinated with the EAR, but Gardner didn’t let him look at it too closely. “Hey, we get to have a few secrets, too,” he told the gunman. The J.G. asked the man about shotguns.
    “Figure we should have one scattergun for close work,” Gardner said. The man showed him one made in Spain. It was semiautomatic and the magazine held five rounds. Pump and shoot, pump