Don Pendleton - Twisted Path

Bolan swiveled the smoking gun toward McIntyre, who seemed to crouch farther into the corner.

The Executioner walked over to the one remaining lamp and snapped it on, the sudden illumination making the curls of gun smoke visible in its rays. The room reeked of blood, gunfire and fear.

"Get up, McIntyre. I'm not going to kill you. Not if you cooperate." Bolan shoved his goggles onto his forehead. He was suddenly weary as the adrenaline rush of battle faded, tired of the killing that had happened this evening, yet knowing that there was more to come, much more, before he had put an end to this particular mission.

McIntyre slowly rose to his feet as the fact that he wasn't dead yet registered. With any luck, he thought, he might still live to die in bed.

If he played his cards very, very carefully.

The arms dealer glanced briefly at his dead bodyguards. It was an unpleasant sight, but they were fools who deserved what they had gotten. He hadn't paid them nearly enough for them to die for him.

"What's the matter, McIntyre, don't you like the sight of what guns can do? It's exactly the same as what they're doing in Peru now. Your guns." Bolan had watched McIntyre carefully, had seen how he had glanced at the guards and away, as if they were only so much offal. Apparently a harder man than he had at first given him credit for.

"I'll cooperate, all right. What is it that you want?" McIntyre studied the big man carefully, noting the bloodstains on his clothing.

Obviously a very capable man, able to fight and think, who would be of great value against Carrillo or anyone else. McIntyre was a pragmatist, and wouldn't let a few dead thugs prevent a possibly advantageous arrangement. Right now the only question was price, and so the businessman prepared to make a deal.

"I want information. Tell me what you know about Carrillo and his operation."

"Very little, really. He approached me several months ago with a business proposition that seemed advantageous. I admit that I needed the money badly. But it was a very simple arrangement. I sent the cargo as he directed, making the necessary contacts in other countries to ensure a valid end-use certificate. There were a number of different ways to divert the cargo into Carrillo's hands. In return, I was paid very handsomely. Who his customers were I have no idea. Before we began to conduct business, I had him investigated thoroughly. There was nothing suspicious in the way of police or military connections, although he was reported as someone not to trifle with. It was also rumored that he was an agent for another person or persons, but that was never substantiated."

"You have never met any of his associates or dealt with anyone other than Carrillo?" Bolan, adept at detecting lies and misrepresentations, believed that McIntyre was telling the truth.

"Not unless you count yourself, whoever you are." McIntyre smiled a bitter grin. "I recognize your voice as the man I spoke with this morning. I suppose you have the shipment?" Bolan nodded. "Well, I'm certain that we can come to some arrangement. I could certainly use a man like you in my organisation." To McIntyre's chagrin, Bolan merely smiled, as though the arms dealer had said something exceedingly funny. ""Come now, I'm very reasonable, even generous. I'll make you an offer you can't refuse."

Bolan said nothing. He didn't bother to refuse.

McIntyre found it difficult to restrain his annoyance. Everything was for sale. Companies, women, friends.

Even himself.

He had gotten what he had thought was a very fair price at the time, although right now the deal didn't look so attractive. He refused to believe that this man didn't have a price. If he was holding out for more than he was worth, McIntyre would agree to it to get him off his back he really wasn't in a position to argue. There would be plenty of time to settle the score later.

"Look," he said, trying to sound conciliatory. "There's a briefcase by that desk. Open it."

Bolan did so, keeping his weapon fixed on McIntyre's heart. He found piles of bills wrapped into packages of ten thousand dollars each.

"There are fifty bundles there, man. That's five hundred thousand dollars! And that will just be your signing bonus. When you've finished working for me you will never want for anything again in this life. There'll be plenty more, I assure you. So what do you say, do we have a deal?"

"Not enough, McIntyre, not nearly enough. You're going to make me a partner."

McIntyre steamed, trying to keep the lava from boiling over. He was Cameron McIntyre, a descendant of one of the most successful business families in America. As if he would actually take this man in as a partner, this upstart madman whose only asset was a fast gun. McIntyre would see him dead and damned first. Repressing the anger, he said, "I suppose that would be possible. We can see my lawyers tomorrow to work out some arrangement."

With an effort, Bolan prevented the contempt from registering on his face. "We'll start right now, then. Get Carrillo on the phone. I'll be handling the Peruvian connection in future."

The arms merchant retrieved his address book from his coat pocket, placed there in preparation for escape. He moved to the phone, stepping over the body of the gunman sprawled by the armchair.

McIntyre dialed a couple of numbers, then waited for the call to go through. "Senor Carrillo. Sorry to disturb you at this hour. However, there have been some new developments at this end that may concern some mutual friends. There is a man here I'd like you to speak with, a clause, personal friend of mine for more than ten years. I'll put him on now." He held out the phone for Bolan, a mocking smile flickering over his lips.

Bolan grabbed the receiver, a little nodule of worry sending a warning down his spine. McIntyre seemed a shade too confident. "This is Michael Blanski, Senor Carrillo. It's a pleasure to speak with you."

Carrillo's voice drifted over the phone lines, placid and undisturbed. "It is my pleasure as well, Mr. Blanski. A friend of Mr. McIntyre's is someone I am happy to welcome as a friend. How may I be of service?"

There was no trace of unease in Carrillo's voice. Bolan wondered if he was starting to jump at shadows. "Mr. McIntyre and I have come to a business arrangement whereby I will be taking over the South American operations. I would like to come to Lima and discuss future arrangements with you personally. Say in two days' time?"

"That would be convenient. Please call me when you arrive and I will arrange to be your most attentive guide to beautiful Lima. I will look forward to seeing you. Good evening."

Bolan replaced the receiver. "Well, McIntyre, it's time to pay for Sharp's murder."

McIntyre was stunned as he read his death in Bolan's cold eyes. "What about our partnership, the money you'll make? You need me to deal with Carrillo. You need my company and my connections. You need me!

Bolan shook his head and drew the Desert Eagle.

"I... I... But you said if I cooperated..." McIntyre stammered, his eyes fixed on the huge silver pistol.

"That was then. This is now." A slug from the.44 cored McIntyre's forehead, blowing a fist-size exit wound in the disebledack of his skull. The arms dealer crumpled to the floor.

Jorge Carrillo turned from his code book and sighed. He had known from the conversation that something was wrong, but the past few minutes had confirmed it. It was fortunate that he and McIntyre had worked out an emergency code in case of trouble.

"Concern some mutual friends" had signaled the trouble, while "close personal friend" had meant that there was a specific enemy involved. "Ten years" told Carrillo that this enemy was considered ten out of ten on a danger scale.

He would have an opportunity to deal with this Michael Blanski in two days. In the meantime, he must inform his superior.