Desert Falcons. Don Pendleton

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СКАЧАТЬ screen holding a microphone. His anxious expression gave way to a nervous smile as he began to speak in a tremulous voice.

      “This ongoing dispute between rancher Rand Autry and the federal authorities has been escalating to a critical confrontation for weeks now over a dispute about open range grazing and water rights and the government’s claim that Mr. Autry has repeatedly refused to pay taxes for these activities. In response to a cease-and-desist order along with the forced confiscation of a portion of Mr. Autry’s cattle, an armed group calling themselves the People’s New Minutemen Militia have announced their support for Mr. Autry and have assembled at the entrance to his property in what they have termed an affront to the pursuit of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Federal authorities—”

      Brognola punched the remote and froze the video again. He turned to Bolan and Grimaldi.

      “Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness,” Grimaldi said. “That’s a catchy phrase. I wonder where they got that one?”

      “Don’t let the rhetoric fool you,” Brognola said as he held up his hand, forming a small space between his index finger and thumb. “They were this close to a full-scale confrontation. That’s Rand Autry riding the horse with the flag in distress.”

      “Who were the uniforms?” Grimaldi asked. “State police?”

      Brognola shook his head. “Bureau of Land Management park rangers.”

      “Interesting,” Bolan said. “But hardly something we would get involved in, right?”

      Brognola took another sip of coffee and grinned. “It gets better.” He pressed the remote and fast-forwarded the video, stopping on a picture of Autry holding the flag on the horse as the animal reared on its hind legs. The picture dissolved, and a new image appeared of the same man, clad in a Stetson hat and a bright, Western-style shirt, standing in front of a lectern with a panoramic painting of picturesque mountains and flowing rivers on a huge panel behind him. The words Land of the Free were stenciled in black letters over the mountains. He appeared to be addressing an audience in a medium-sized auditorium.

      “We are all gathered here at Camp Freedom today to celebrate our freedom and our way of life,” Autry said, “and to address the most critical and dangerous threat to our existence since the Communists. I’m talking about our current administration in Washington and the secret deals they’re making to circumvent the American way of life. They’re defiling the very law of the land, denying the very things that made this country great.”

      The audience applauded.

      Autry bowed his head slightly in appreciation and acknowledgment. “As we speak, they’ve been playing both ends against the middle, coddling the Jews in Israel, while making deals with the Muslims, all to support the welfare state our great country has become supporting urban blacks who’ve made our city streets free-fire zones. Our cities have regressed a hundred years, back to the times when we worried about the marauding Indian tribes. And it’s not enough that the federal government is flaunting these things in front of our faces every day on the five o’clock news, but they continue to tax the common folk, the people who built this great country, to pay for it all. As far as the government’s concerned, ‘we the people’ doesn’t apply if you’re a white American, despite the fact that the blacks, Indians and Latinos are all supported by our tax dollars that the government continues to take and take and take.”

      As Autry held up his fist, Brognola froze the image once again.

      “Thanks,” Bolan said. “A little of that guy goes a long way.”

      “He’s a real equal-opportunity bigot, all right,” Grimaldi added. “Is there any ethnic group he hasn’t managed to insult?”

      Brognola chuckled.

      “He mentioned Camp Freedom,” Bolan stated. “What’s that?”

      “His rather sizable ranch just outside of Las Vegas,” Brognola said. “In recent years it’s been transformed into a veritable fortress, with Autry and his son as the commandants.”

      “I think we saw his better image in the first recording,” Grimaldi said. “The horse’s ass. But at least he didn’t say anything derogatory about the Italians.”

      “Give him time,” Brognola replied. “He’s managed to offend just about everybody.”

      “As much as I dislike loud-mouthed bigots,” Bolan said, “what does this have to do with us?”

      Brognola swiveled his chair back to the conference table and placed his crossed forearms on its top. “Autry’s got serious money problems. Although he’s purported to have sizable assets, he owes the government a lot, to the tune of fifteen million. He’s desperate. The word is that there’s been some suspicious goings-on in southern Nevada, including dealings with the Mexican cartels and a possible arms deal. The People’s New Minutemen Militia, which you got a glimpse of in that news piece, is rumored to be interested in purchasing some pretty serious weaponry at Autry’s behest. Russian organized crime is purportedly involved.”

      “It sounds more like a job for ATF than us,” Bolan replied. “This guy may be a loudmouth and a public nuisance, but he’s hardly a blip on our radar, is he?”

      Brognola shook his head slowly. “There’s a bit more than just that going on. Ever hear of Prince Amir bin Abdul Sattam Saud?”

      “Prince Amir?” Bolan asked. “As in one of the lesser-knowns in the Royal Family of Saudi Arabia?”

      Brognola nodded. “One and the same. While he’s one of many royal heirs to the throne, it’s rumored he’s the king’s favorite grandson. He’s got the reputation of being something of a playboy.”

      “Man, I bet women flock to him,” Grimaldi said.

      “In droves, apparently,” Brognola said. “While there’s certainly no shortage of heir-apparents, Prince Amir is thought to be a real-deal contender. Like I said, he’s the king’s favorite grandson.

      “There was an attempt on the prince’s life last night in Bahrain. It was foiled by his bodyguards.”

      “Who tried to kill him?” Bolan asked.

      “As far as we know,” Brognola said, “and the Saudis and Bahrainis are playing this close to their vests, the assassins were Shi’ite Saudis from the Eastern Province.”

      “Sunnis and Shi’ites,” Grimaldi said. “They’ve been going at it just about forever.”

      “There’s no moderation when it comes to their disputes,” Brognola stated.

      “Moderation,” Grimaldi said. “No such word in their dictionary.”

      “Have either of you ever hear of Colonel Herbert Francis Coltrain?”

      “The publisher of Mercenary One magazine?” Grimaldi said. “Yeah, I met him a couple years ago at the Shot Show in Vegas. That guy’s been almost as many hot places as we have.”

      “Well, he founded the Desert Warfare Training Academy some ten years ago. It’s a rather prestigious school. They trained a lot of the Private Military Organizations we were using over in Iraq and Afghanistan. His instructors were all ex-military, a lot of them special-ops vets.”

      “The СКАЧАТЬ