His secondment eventually came to an end, and he resumed his normal duties within the Navy. But in the back of his mind was always that experience in the Pentagon control room, watching as brave Americans died due to a lack of cross-service cohesion, and the feeling that he could improve things.
He got his chance to move back into the intelligence community soon after. As Captain of his first command, Hansard’s naval destroyer was sent to support the US invasion of Grenada in 1983. A freak explosion on deck occurred soon after his arrival there, and Hansard had left the bridge to rescue three of his crewmembers who were left burning on the top deck. A yard arm had then collapsed from the intense heat, and had partially crushed his left leg. Hansard had even then dragged one of his sailors out of the flames using just his arms, before he himself was rescued by his Chief.
Hansard had been awarded the Navy Cross for his bravery, and the surgeons back in Bethesda had managed to save the leg, but the impact had left him with a permanent limp, and no longer fit for active duty on board a naval vessel. He still had the burning desire to serve his country though, raging through him stronger than ever.
His superior officers recognized his sharp intellect, and his analytical and strategic abilities, and after reviewing his own personal request, had recommended that he be transferred to the Defence Intelligence Agency after his recuperation.
By the time of the first Gulf War, Hansard had already proven himself more than capable of operating within the shadowy confines of the intelligence underworld. A certain degree of ruthlessness displayed during his early work against the Contras in Nicaragua and the Columbian drug cartels had led to his involvement with the infamous Intelligence Support Activity, a body later disbanded after accusations of financial mismanagement. During his time there, Hansard had learnt a great deal about how such units operated, what the potential pitfalls to such work were, and how mistakes could be avoided in the future.
His successful involvement in covert operations soon led to his becoming the DIA’s key liaison with the military’s special forces units. For the next few years he assisted their operations across the globe, until he was made Head of Department X shortly before Iraq invaded Kuwait in the early 1990s.
Hansard also took command of the DIA’s own paramilitary force, known by the codename Grey Fox. The unit’s aim was to carry out covert missions for the government that were too sensitive for normal special forces troops. Tasks involved the kidnapping of foreign agents, penetration of unfriendly governments, sabotage, blackmail and, of course, assassination. Hansard had been aware of the program since its inception, and had worked with some of the men previously, always impressed with their sheer professionalism. Command of such a unit was his dream job and, once he took the reins, it was made even more successful.
Awareness of the cell was one of the major problems Hansard faced, as it was something of an open secret within the armed services. Some of the jobs that Hansard had planned, and his small unit of handpicked men had carried out, were becoming almost legendary. The problem manifested itself in the late ‘90s, when newspapers started to get wind of it, and accusations started flying about another government ‘hit squad’.
Hansard knew the best policy was containment, and so quickly and quietly disbanded his beloved unit. A cooling off period was decided upon, and Hansard’s employers wanted to know what their man wanted to do during the hiatus; his impact and unrivalled success ensured that he would get any posting he asked for. They were surprised when Hansard had asked to join the Joint Military Intelligence College as a Group Mentor. But strings were pulled, and in the January of 1999, Hansard left for the key post at JMIC.
The college was a finishing school of sorts, for the top people within the military and intelligence communities. Established in 1961, it had initially been known as the Defence Intelligence School, and years after Hansard had been there it was again renamed as the National Defence Intelligence College. It offered programs at both the graduate and undergraduate level, and some of the top people within the United States government had passed through the school over the years.
Hansard had known this fact all too well, and he had used the three years he was there to lay down the groundwork for his ultimate goal; you could never start planning for something too early, he knew.
Upon his return to DIA headquarters, he resumed his role as Head of DX, and set about creating a new covert action cell. This time, rather than inheriting an existing unit as he had before, he had carte blanche to create a new unit from the ground up. This he did with typical attention to detail, spending time over every little thing, from the selection of the men and women themselves, to the computers he wanted for the intelligence headquarters. The result was the Systems Research Group.
He kept the cell small, with a headquarters of half a dozen experts, and twelve field teams of four operatives. These men and women were seconded from their parent units in utmost secrecy, and the number of people who were even aware of the existence of the SRG was less than a hundred — unheard of for such an operation.
Selection of the right personnel was absolutely key, Hansard knew. He only wanted the best, most reliable people; soldiers with plenty of combat experience. Luckily for him, US special forces were never light in that particular department. He didn’t hold open selections due to security considerations, but what he did do was obtain the service records of the members of America’s various special forces units, and read through them one by one. From these reports, which numbered in the thousands, he requested two hundred people for interview. Of these, he knew he would accept only twenty-five percent.
Mark Kowalski had been the eighth name on his list.
30
The driving snow was making it hard to see out of the windscreen of the stolen car. Cole had driven the Citroen C9 a little over two hundred miles, and knew he would soon need a new one. He didn’t want to drive too far in a stolen vehicle, for fear that it would attract attention. Changing cars every two or three hundred miles would make the journey a lot safer. There would be one more change before he got to the German border, and then he would leave the vehicle and cross over on foot, only taking another car when he was safely in the new country. He couldn’t take the chance of driving through the border, for fear that the patrol guards might have his picture; he had no idea the extent of the manhunt Hansard would have ordered.
He coaxed the little car on along the highway at a steady hundred kilometres per hour, in quite possibly the worst conditions he had ever come across. The compacted snow under his tyres made grip all but nonexistent, and the snow was coming down so heavily that even with his wipers on at double speed, he could barely see the road ahead.
Even with his concentration on the road, he felt his mind returning to his old master and mentor. Hansard — he still couldn’t believe the man wanted him dead. It was too much to accept, and yet Cole’s experience of the world meant that his views of human nature were essentially somewhat less than optimistic. Cynicism was his watchword, and yet he had never expected Hansard to turn against him. What was the man thinking? He was up to something, that much was obvious; it was also evident that whatever it was, it was big. But, he remembered, Hansard had always had the mental edge; not just over him, but over everyone.