Zero option, p.18
Zero Option, page 18
He slipped the cell phone from his pocket and moved to one side of the window as the number rang out. The seconds it took before being answered felt an eternity.
“Striker?”
“Hal. Just listen. I’m at Kaplan’s lodge. Buchanan and Kaplan are here. Alive. So are Byrde and Valens and the P.I. helping me out. Right now we don’t have much chance of shooting our way out. I’m going to take the chance of surrendering to the assault team outside. There are too many of them. If they take us…Listen. Ask Aaron if he can check and see if the trace in Buchanan’s skull is back online. If it is, you might be able to locate him when he’s moved. It’s the only way you might get to him before Stahl goes to work.”
“Okay, now you listen,” Brognola said. “The Bear might have something you can use as a bargaining chip. Beringer’s laptop gave up some interesting information regarding Senator Stahl’s dealings with Stengard. Seems Beringer had been keeping a file of his own as a lifeline. A section referred to Stahl’s own files. Our pal Beringer had unlocked these files, using the senator’s own password. He had some program that was able to break into Stahl’s system and decode the password. Beringer says Stahl has no idea his files have been accessed. The senator isn’t that smart when it comes to computers.”
Bolan heard shouted commands outside the lodge. Someone yelling for them to put down their weapons and offer no resistance.
“Hal. No more time.”
“The password is ‘Freedom.’”
The lodge’s main door crashed open, flung back against the wall. Armed men in black combat gear moved into the lodge. More appeared from the direction of the kitchen.
Bolan lowered the hand holding the cell phone before any of the assault team spotted it.
“Put the guns down,” Bolan said to his companions. “Now isn’t the time.”
He dropped the cell phone to the floor, kicking it out of sight under a floor unit, then raised both his hands away from his body. He caught sight of Valens glaring at him, her eyes full of fury. He could take her rage. It was less harmful than getting shot.
The assault team filled the room. Bolan counted close to a dozen of them. They moved quickly to disarm Riba and the two Zero security agents. Two closed in on Bolan and took his weapons, frisking him quickly.
A familiar figure moved to the front of the group, taking off his black cap to expose short-cropped blond hair.
Cal Ryan.
He looked pleased with himself, smiling as he crossed to stand in front of Doug Buchanan and Saul Kaplan.
“It must be my fuckin’ birthday. Two presents, boys. The performing monkey and the organ grinder together. Look after this pair. They’re our meal ticket for this trip.”
He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and punched a speed-dial number.
“Evening, Mr. Senator. Remember I asked if you were smiling a while ago? Well, you can do better than that. Try a damned good laugh.”
Ryan listened to Stahl’s reply.
“We got ’em both. Alive and kicking. Alive at least. We also have four additional guests. What do you want me to do with them?”
Ryan glanced around the room. His gaze finally settled on Bolan. His own smile widened.
“Tell the senator I have something for him,” Bolan said, knowing he was playing a very wild card.
“What?” Ryan had to have been interrupted by Stahl. “Remember that bastard who capped my boys after the airport pickup? Belasko. Yeah, the one who shot my men. Seems he has something to say to you. Jesus. Whatever you say.”
Ryan held out the cell phone to Bolan. The Executioner took it.
“Ryan tells me you have something to say,” Stahl said.
“‘Freedom,’ Senator, just ‘Freedom.’ One of those words that means different things to different people. In your case it’s the magic word that opens files.”
The silence that followed gave Bolan more than hope. It presented him with a chance for them all to walk away from this alive, and that was worth a great deal.
“Put Ryan back on.” Stahl’s tone was flat. Cold.
Bolan handed the cell phone back to Cal Ryan.
“Ryan.”
“Bring them all back.”
“All of them?”
“Yes. We may need persuasion to convince Buchanan he should cooperate with us. If we have these others available, it might help to make him see sense. They might also be able to tell us how much others might know about our operation. Especially Belasko.”
“Okay, Senator. We’ll be moving out shortly.”
“Remember, Ryan, we need them alive.”
Ryan cut the call, then turned to stare at Bolan.
“He wants you all delivered alive.” Ryan shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me, but he’s the man, so he gets what he wants. He says alive, so it’s alive you’ll be. But he didn’t say anything about getting bruised in transit.”
Bolan realized what he meant too late. The M-16 in Ryan’s hands swung up and around, clubbing him across the side of the head. The hard blow sent Bolan reeling. Before he could defend himself, Ryan was on him, casting aside the rifle to use his big fists. Brutal blows to his face and body sent the Executioner back against the wall. Still dazed from the rifle blow he struggled to fight back. He didn’t succeed. Ryan hit hard and with little mercy. His attack was savage. By the time he was done, Ryan was out of breath and his knuckles were raw. Bolan, slumped back against the wall, had refused to go down. His face was bloody, his body aflame with pain. He felt rough hands grab his arms, hauling him upright. He shook his head to clear the fog of pain from his head and the blood from his eyes. He focused on Ryan’s sweating face, stubbornly staring the other man down. Ryan raised a large fist, flexing his bleeding knuckles, lips curling back from his teeth.
“This isn’t finished yet, Belasko.”
Bolan didn’t answer, but his expression remained defiant, and Ryan got the message.
Damned right it isn’t over.
CONCEALED IN deep brush just beyond the lodge, Tang Mau had watched the larger force of armed men advance on the building and file inside.
He was the sole survivor of Chosan’s team. Being ordered to stay outside the lodge when the others entered had saved his life. He had heard and seen the killing of his comrades. Realizing there were too many inside the lodge, he had dropped to the wet ground, crawling quickly away from the lodge. He had barely managed to slide into the deeper cover when the armed men had closed in on the lodge and entered the building.
Tang moved farther away, distancing himself from the lodge. The mission was over. Their task hadn’t been fulfilled. His only problem now was getting away from the area, back to the helicopter where he would be able to make contact with Shao Yeung and inform him what had happened. There was nothing else he could do. He was alone in a strange country, with few who could help him. If he could return to Seattle and the freighter, he might have a chance. That didn’t seem likely. So all he could do was to call Shao and ask for his help.
Over the next few hours Tang retraced the route back down the mountain, hoping to locate the helicopter if it was still there. The weather was still bad. Rain and wind. The darkness. Tang still carried his Uzi and he gripped the weapon tightly. At least he had that if he was confronted by anyone hostile.
He found the helicopter just before dawn. He had come in by a circuitous route, more by accident than by design. He could hardly believe his eyes when he broke through into the clearing and the helicopter was sitting there. Tang couldn’t see the pilot at first, but as he neared the machine he made out the young Chinese in one of the passenger seats at the rear of the cabin. The pilot was sitting with his head back, and Tang realized he was asleep. He opened the rear door and saw straightaway that the pilot was handcuffed to the seat frame. Panic made him step back, bringing the Uzi into play as he looked around. He saw nothing, heard nothing.
Tang reached out to shake the pilot’s shoulder. The man jerked awake, his eyes wide with alarm until he recognized Tang.
“What has happened?” Tang demanded.
“Two American agents found me. They handcuffed me, then went up into the mountains.” The pilot checked out the area. “Where are the others? Chosan Xiang?”
“They are dead. It all went wrong. There were others there. An armed team of Americans. When Chosan and the others went inside, they were shot immediately. I only just managed to escape myself. We should leave quickly before anyone else comes.”
“Can you fly this thing?” the pilot asked.
“I’m not a pilot.”
“Then get me out of these handcuffs or we won’t be going anywhere.”
The pilot told Tang where to find the toolbox. From it Tang took bolt cutters and after some struggle he managed to cut the chain that held the cuffs. The pilot went to his flight seat and began the warm-up sequence.
Tang located the cell phone that had been left in the helicopter. He knew it had a number to connect him with Shao Yeung. He located the speed-dial list and found the number. It rang for some time before it was answered. Tang recognized the voice on the other end.
“Shao Yeung, this is Tang.”
SHAO YEUNG FELT his spirits sink as Tang told him what had happened. Apart from the failure to kill Buchanan and Kaplan was the death of Chosan Xiang. It was a deep loss as far as Shao was concerned. An unnecessary loss and a sad one. Granted he and Chosan had only been involved for a short time. Even so Shao felt as if he had lost a good friend. Chosan had been a good man and soldier. The mission that had brought them all the way to America had been important. It had also been riddled with difficulties. The bitter thing was that Chosan had gotten so close to success.
Shao also thought about General Tung. He wasn’t going to be pleased at all. Both attempts to eradicate Zero had come to nothing. Tung would be enraged. If anyone was standing too close when he received the news they would feel his anger. Shao would be on Tung’s list, as well. As the only top-ranking survivor, he would carry the responsibility. The thought made Shao tremble. He was going to have to carefully consider his options.
“Tang, can you get back to Seattle?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will your pilot bring you?”
“I will ask.”
“I will wait for you here if the ship leaves. I can arrange for us to stay somewhere. There is money available.”
“All right. I will try and get back. Shao Yeung, thank you.”
YEUNG PUT DOWN the cell phone. He wandered around the cabin, his mind busy with things he needed to do. Almost without conscious effort he picked up the envelope Chosan had handed to him before leaving.
“Open this and do exactly what it tells you only if I don’t return,” Chosan had told him.
Yeung opened the envelope and took out the single, thin sheet of paper. It was covered in Chinese characters, neatly brushed in the traditional style.
Yeung read the note. “If I am unable to carry this out, do it for me, my friend, Shao Yeung.” A slow smile crossed his lips. It was typical of Chosan not to forget to pay a debt. He immediately picked up his cell phone and called the number Chosan had written down. When it was answered he identified himself by the name Chosan had instructed, relayed Chosan’s message word for word, and promised to deposit the required amount of money to the noted account number. The man on the other end of the line thanked Shao for his call and broke the connection. There was nothing else to do. The man he had called was already in possession of an envelope that contained a photograph and certain details. As Chosan had requested, Shao destroyed the note.
He carried on with his own arrangements, which in the light of current events, confirmed to Shao that it would be wiser to stay in America rather than return to China. Until he had time to work out his own future Shao Yeung would adopt the identity on his ship’s papers and find himself a new occupation. He had access to substantial money, and as Chosan himself had been at pains to point out, with money anything was possible in the United States. Shao Yeung decided it might be interesting to find out if that was really true.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SAC Corporate HQ, Maryland
Mack Bolan looked down on the vast spread of the manufacturing facility as the helicopter swung in for a landing. Immediately in front was the main administration building. Beyond the main building the manufacturing shops stood in isolation, surrounded by landscaped areas of trees and bushes, swathes of carefully tended lawns. The entire complex looked more like a hospital than a factory developing and producing an array of weapons ranging from .22 rifles, through heavy artillery, to the latest concepts in missile technology.
The helicopter overflew the main complex, dropping lower as it skirted the warehouse and freight yard at the rear of the site. Deeper into the site was a large, low structure. It had a stark, no-frills appearance and as the Bell Iroquois touched down on a large concrete pad fronting this building, Bolan saw the sign in front of it.
The sign stated SAC Research & Development—Strictly Out of Bounds.
As the helicopter touched the pad, the jolt made Claire Valens sit upright. She groaned as her stiff joints protested. Restriction on her wrists made her look down. She was bound by plastic cuffs, as were the rest of the captives. She saw the red marks on her skin where the plastic loops had chafed her and she muttered something under her breath.
Bolan had seen this and failed to hold back a faint grin. Even now Valens was putting up resistance.
He glanced around the cabin at the others.
Riba had his head back, his eyes almost closed, as if he were dozing. Bolan knew otherwise. The man was taking stock, watching and waiting.
Valens’s partner, Byrde, had an angry expression on his face. He hadn’t liked the surrender, despite accepting it had been the only sensible thing to do at the time. Bolan hoped he wouldn’t do anything without thinking it through.
Directly across from Bolan were Buchanan and Kaplan. They had said little during the flight. The soldier had kept a close watch on Buchanan. The man looked to be in a bad way. Weary, his face taking on a pale, unhealthy pallor, Buchanan didn’t look like a man capable of taking on something as complex as Zero. Next to him Saul Kaplan was a man out of his depth. The events at the lodge and the subsequent flight across country had driven him into a shell of self-protection. He was a frightened man.
Bolan himself had absorbed the discomfort of the flight without a word. His face and body ached from Ryan’s attack. It wasn’t the first time Bolan had taken a beating, and it wouldn’t be the last. It hurt, but he bore that, and at least it affirmed he was still alive. And life was too precious to let go of. There were too many things he had to do in this world. The next was going to have to wait—for a long time if Mack Bolan had any say in the matter.
The moment the helicopter made contact, one of Ryan’s men slid open the door and jumped out. More of the armed team followed and they formed a line, weapons at the ready, as Bolan and the others were herded outside. When the remainder of Ryan’s team had exited the helicopter, they formed an escort around their captives and pushed them toward the entrance to the R&D building. Ryan was at the head of the line. He paused at the doors and produced a swipe card he used to activate and open the smoked-glass sliding doors. They all stepped inside, the doors sliding shut behind them.
Ryan walked to the single elevator doors and used his swipe card again.
Bolan made a mental note of that. He also watched where Ryan pocketed the card.
The elevator was large enough to accommodate them all. When Ryan punched the lower button on the panel, the elevator dropped quickly. The trip was short, so the car hadn’t gone too deep. The doors slid open, and they emerged onto one of the lower levels of the R&D complex.
A single corridor stretched away from them. It appeared to go on for a considerable distance, fluorescent lights throwing harsh white light across the smooth walls and floor. Doors led off on both sides of the corridor at regular intervals. It was quiet. The air was fresh and cool, being pumped in through vents in the ceiling.
“You can go to your rooms later,” Ryan said, grinning as if he had just made a humorous comment.
“I hope they run out soon,” Valens said.
Ryan glanced at her. “Say what?”
“Your witty remarks. I don’t know how long I can take them without throwing up.”
Ryan was still grinning when he launched a looping backhand that cracked against the side of Valens’s face. She stumbled, her eyes cold as she stared at Ryan.
“More where that came from,” Ryan said.
“One of your specialties,” Bolan said quietly. “Hitting defenseless women.”
Ryan looked across at him. “A man needs a pastime.”
“I’ve seen the evidence. After the woman was pulled out of the water.”
“Hell, don’t tell me that brought you into this?”
“It helped.”
“Goddamned knight in shining armor,” Ryan said. “Now I heard it all.”
He moved on along the corridor. Reaching a pair of double doors, Ryan waited as they swung open, then stepped aside as his men took Bolan and the others into the room beyond.
It was fitted out as an office, with a large desk and high leather swivel chair. On the plain walls were large prints of SAC ordnance. Down one side was a computer layout, with a number of large-screen monitors and peripheral equipment.
Seated behind the desk was a man Bolan recognized from TV and newspaper images.
Colonel Orin Stengard.
He wore civilian clothing and had a large mug of coffee in one hand. As the room filled up, Stengard pushed the chair back from the desk and stood. On his feet he was an impressive figure: ramrod straight with good shoulders and a lean physique. He stepped around the desk and surveyed the captives like a man assessing prize cattle. Finally satisfied, he turned to Ryan, who was standing to attention.
