Page 6 of Into the Gray Zone (Pike Logan #19)

Wolffe walked to the head of the table and took a seat. I pulled out the nearest chair, saying, “Goa? What’s in India? Nuclear

weapons on the loose? A sighting of Big Foot?”

Wolffe said, “Nothing that sexy. You won’t be doing any kinetic operations. It’s a simple favor for Kerry Bostwick. Just a

site survey.”

He saw my expression and knew I was less than enthused. I said, “Site survey for the CIA? Seriously? If I wanted to be a clown

I would have joined the circus. Tell them to do it themselves.”

Kerry Bostwick was the director of the CIA and a friend of the Taskforce, but that didn’t mean I wanted to start working for

him. I had a job, and it was a hell of a lot more important than hauling his spit buckets around the gym while he was in the

ring. In fact, by the Taskforce charter, I wasn’t allowed to do it.

Created as a scalpel, we specifically attacked problem sets that other parts of the government couldn’t, or wouldn’t handle.

Because of that, we were specifically designed not to duplicate other agencies. They had their roles and we had ours.

We didn’t do traditional intelligence collection—that was CIA. If there was a target that could be handled by one of the DOD’s special mission units, then they did so. We only dealt with national security threats that stymied other overt agencies because of bureaucracy, geopolitics, misbegotten United States code, or simply logistics. We were unlike anything else in the United States arsenal, and I was being asked to basically be the CIA’s JV team for something they could handle on their own.

Wolffe held up his hands and said, “Hang on, hang on. It’s a little more important than that. Bostwick himself is meeting

the head of the Research and Analysis Wing, but he’s doing it clandestinely. Nobody outside of RAW knows he’s coming, and

he can’t use anyone stationed there because they’re known to the host nation.”

“So bring in some pipe-hitters from DC. Bostwick’s got them. Why are we being tasked?”

Wolffe clicked on the giant TV and said, “Let him tell you. Just don’t cuss him out.”

Which was dirty pool. Wolffe knew how I felt, and he also knew I couldn’t very well tear into the D/CIA without looking like

a loose cannon. The screen cleared and I saw Kerry Bostwick larger than life, staring back at us. He said, “Can you hear me?”

Wolffe said, “We got you Kerry. I’ve got most of the team here, and they’re raring to go.”

Bostwick laughed and said, “I’ll bet. First off, I appreciate this. I know it’s unorthodox, but Wolffe said you guys were

available, and your cover is perfect.”

I scowled at Wolffe, then went back to the screen, saying, “Whoa there, I haven’t agreed to anything yet. Just tell me what’s

going on and why my team is needed when you own the entire CIA.”

Taken aback, Bostwick said, “Oh, sorry. I was under the impression you’d packed and were ready to fly. Rock Star bird and

all that.”

“We are packed, but I still don’t know why.”

“Okay, look, here it is: I’m meeting secretly with the head of RAW and an Indian billionaire. All I need is four days of security while I’m on-site. The location is the Grand Hyatt resort near the capital, Panaji.”

“You didn’t answer the question: Why don’t you use CIA assets? Why us?”

Bostwick sighed and said, “Believe me, if I could use my own assets, I would, but I don’t have them and I’m out of time. You

were the last resort.”

That sounded worse than what I’d originally thought. Now we weren’t good enough to be the first team?

He saw my face and said, “I don’t mean in skill, I mean because of the Taskforce charter. Look, all of my personnel at the

India station are either declared at worst or suspected of being agency at best. The RAW chief has forbidden me from using

them, as he wants to keep this meeting completely off the books from his folks.”

I said, “So bring in someone from here. Paramilitary guys from Ground Branch.”

“I would, but I’m not dictating the timeline. The meeting is going to happen within the next few days and I simply don’t have

anyone to pull. Every single asset I have with the skill set I need is currently either stacked against the mess in the Middle

East or over in Ukraine. It’s vacuumed up every available asset. Tel Aviv is bursting at the seams with my guys, Beirut is

on fire, Iraq is about to implode, and Iran is trying to play puppet master throughout. All of that has left the National

Command Authority demanding answers, wanting me to predict the future. Houthis, Hamas, Hezbollah, and every other crack-pot

group that starts with an ‘H’ has sucked me dry, and that’s not even mentioning Russia and their nuclear threats. Every paramilitary

officer I have is in the fight right now.”

I couldn’t argue with that. Ever since those assholes in Hamas had slaughtered Israelis, the world had been on fire. Well, actually since Pu tin had invaded Ukraine before that. I didn’t envy Bostwick’s job and felt a little bit selfish at my earlier reticence. After all, it was supposed to be one team, one fight. Still, I asked, “Won’t the RAW have security on-site? I mean, how dangerous could this meeting be if it’s at a resort?”

“Yes, they will have security on-site, and in fact I was willing to forgo any of my own security because of that, but two

days ago they detained a worker at the resort. Turns out he has ties to Lashkar-e-Taiba. He’d just started working there a

week before.”

Lashkar-e-Taiba was an Islamic terrorist organization from Pakistan. Their stated goal was to “reunite” the Kashmir area of

India with Pakistan, and their most famous action was the 2008 Mumbai terrorist attack, where they hit various iconic hotels,

restaurants, and stores in a downtown Mumbai shopping district, slaughtering close to two hundred civilians over a four-day

rampage.

I said, “Well, sounds like the RAW is on their game. Stopped a threat before it could execute.”

“Yeah, but there are indicators that the man had contact with the ISI, which means this was planned at a much higher level

than just some lone wolf from a substate terrorist affiliate. It’s why I’m caught short for security and asking for you at

the last minute. I was going to trust RAW, but now, with this information, I don’t want to put my faith in RAW being ‘on their

game’ during the meeting time.”

The ISI was Pakistan’s Interservice Intelligence Agency—their version of the CIA. They’d played a double game with us in Afghanistan

for years, taking our money with one hand while helping the Taliban with the other. I had no doubt they were instrumental

in hiding Osama bin Laden in their country when we found him. How else would he have a mansion a couple of miles away from

the Pakistani version of West Point?

I nodded and said, “Okay, sir, you’ve got me. What’s this meeting about?”

“Well, the Middle East and Russia aren’t the only things I have to worry about. China is still an eight-hundred-pound gorilla. This meeting is about them.”

He paused, then said, “You guys know anything about rare earth elements?”