Page 16

“I’m on rehabilitative leave, General, but you probably know that.”

“Jim told me. He also said he didn’t think it would keep you from being…effective.”

No. It wouldn’t. You could be effective behind a desk even if you had a gimpy leg.

He knew the right people to contact. He’d get in touch with them, call in some favors, set in motion a process that would, he had to admit, undoubtedly be more efficient than what Wilde could do by going through the usual channels. And he could do it all from here. Satellites would put everything he needed within his grasp.

The only question was who to ask to go in and do the dirty work. The trek through the green hell of San Escobal, the stalking of lowlifes who’d as soon murder a woman as keep her alive. And, toughest of all, the job of getting her out without getting her killed in the process.

It had to be a one-man job by a lone wolf who knew how to remain damn near invisible.

Goddammit.

He wanted it to be him.

It was the kind of work he’d been trained to do, the kind he loved. The excitement. The risk. The danger. There were times it was better than sex.

But it wouldn’t be him. He hadn’t been cleared for duty. No way Blake would let him take this on.

Who, then?

Names went through his head. Caleb Wilde, no longer in the field but still revered at The Agency…and, now that he thought about it, was that same last name a coincidence? It didn’t matter. Caleb was wrong for the job. His area of expertise had been Europe.

Zach Castelianos, who’d been with Force Recon and then The Agency. Zach was running his own outfit now, but his specialty had been Eastern Europe and the Middle East.

He needed someone who knew the jungle. Knew Bright Star.

Chay could do it, but he was only here on a training mission that he had to complete so he could rejoin their unit.

Okay. It was time to stop thinking of who wasn’t available and come up with someone who was.

“Lieutenant? Will you help me?”

Tanner looked at the general. Despite the uniform, the medals, the stiff military bearing, there was desperation in the man’s face.

“I will.”

Wilde closed his eyes, then opened them again. “Thank you.”

They shook hands. Then Tanner grabbed a pen and pad of paper from the desk.

“I want to get started immediately.”

“Of course. Just tell me what you need.”

“That’s what I’m about to do, General. I’ll need a small office here. Nothing elaborate, but it has to be private. And I’ll give you a list of what equipment I’ll require. Computers. I’ll write down the kind I want. Special satellite access. A couple of fax machines. Full access to you at all times. I’m going to check out some men who I think will… What?”

Wilde was shaking his head.

“I’m talking about what you’ll need personally. Pistols. Automatic weapons. Men. How many and with what specialties. And, of course, how to handle insertion into San Escobal. By chopper? Plane? Boat? Or do you think it’s preferable to go in on foot from Belize or Guatemala?”

“I’ll make all those determinations after I decide on an operative. That’s part of my role as coordinator.”

“I don’t want you coordinating this operation, Akecheta, I want you heading it up in the field.”

In the field.

The adrenaline rush was overpowering. For an instant, Tanner could see the green walls of the rain forest, smell the lush scents of it, hear the sounds and feel the heat.