Free Operation Southern Cross - 02 by Jack Shane Page B

don’t have to worry about for a while.”
    Autry asked: “And none of this can wait? It’s that serious that we can’t even take a nap before going out again?”
    Weir shrugged. “It’s always serious, Bobby,” he replied. “You know that. It just depends on how serious. Now, if all this other crap wasn’t happening around the world, where would this rate? Who knows? Maybe higher. Maybe lower. But like I said, they’re hoping you come back with info that shows that this air base is nothing more than a hole in the ground, and that these Bear bombers, if they even exist, are still in crates, rusting on a dock somewhere.”
    Autry stared out at the sea for a moment. It seemed unusually calm. “You say this is all just a theory. Something pieced together from several different streams of intelligence.”
    “That’s how it usually works,” Weir replied. “We’ve got teams of analysts we pay big bucks to come to these conclusions.”
    “So what’s the probability that this theory is the right one?” Autry wanted to know. “You have analysts working things like that too, am I right?”
    Weir thought a moment. “Again, yes,” he replied. “And if you asked any of these probability analysts, they’d tell you they’re behind this theory one hundred percent. But if you got one to speak honestly, they’d probably tell you it’s fifty-fifty that this Bear thing is going on.”
    “And you can’t tell this sort of thing from satellites? Or people you’ve already got on the ground down there?”
    Weir puffed on his Marlboro again. “I wish,” he said. He held two fingers up. “One, no satellite photos because the Galaxy Net was employed other places before this came up. Two, we don’t have anyone on the ground in Venezuela. Their government kicked out all our military people a few months ago and about ninety percent of the diplomatic staff went with them. We got more people inside Iran these days than Venezuela. That’s why you’re going in.”
    Another drag from his cigarette. Weir looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
    “I’ve got your full orders in my laptop,” he went on. “But, I’ll tell you this here and now: This one really has to be done under the radar. You can’t go down there and start any trouble, Bobby. There’s enough crap going around these days to last us for years. Our friends in Washington have emphasized that while this is important, they don’t need another headache. So really be ghosts this time. Low profile. No risks. Stay invisible, get your shit done, take your pictures, whatever—but do it as quietly as possible, and then get the hell out of there. Capeesh ?”
    Weir finally finished his cigarette and flicked the butt overboard. Autry studied him for a moment. The CIA agent was usually a calm, collected individual. But now he seemed worried—and that was unlike him.
    “I’ve got to tell you, you look like you swallowed a mouse,” Autry said frankly.
    Weir began to protest, but then stopped. He couldn’t prevent his shoulders from sagging. “I’ve been in this business twenty-five years,” he said almost wistfully. “Just as long as you. And I’ve seen the D.C. crowd worried before. Shit, I’ve seen them worried and very pessimistic. And I’ve seen them very confused too.”
    “But?” Autry prompted him.
    “But,” Weir said. “With all this weird shit happening now, stuff they can’t figure out, and their precious communications net all goofy. It’s like a heavyweight who’s taken so many blows he doesn’t know where the next one is coming from—and that might be the knockout punch. What I’m saying is, it’s the first time I’ve seen them not just concerned or confused, but actually a little scared. And I don’t like it.”
    Autry glanced at his watch again.
    “Neither do I,” he said.

CHAPTER 7
     
    THE DAY DAWNED HOT AND STICKY OVER LOS TRIPOS.
    The small river port was located deep in the tropical rain forest of the Orinoco Delta region,