Don Pendleton - Meltdown

Parsons stared glumly at Rachel Peres.

"And you, was it true what he said about you? Are you Mossad?"

"Not anymore. I work for the CIA on a contract basis now. He didn't seem to know that, which is about the only thing he doesn't seem to know."

"Why did you do it? Why did you come to me? Surely you don't think I was party to something so monstrous as this?"

"No, not you. But you were ripe for the picking, Malcolm. You set yourself up. Glinkov didn't have to try very hard. You were all set. You were so damn smug, so damn sure of yourself. I'd be willing to bet it's been a long time since you had any doubts about yourself. Am I right?"

Parsons nodded.

"You would have been if you had asked me yesterday. But that doesn't matter. We have to stop him. He can't be allowed to get away with this. I'll talk to him."

"It's long past talking, Malcolm. Believe me."

"Maybe not. I can try at least."

"And if it doesn't work?"

"Then I'll have to kill him."

Parsons rose. He closed the heavy steel door behind him as he left the room.

The guardhouse wasn't much larger than a garage. But it might as well have been a fortress.

Mack Bolan and Eli Cohen stood in the trees, watching. It seemed all they could do at the moment. Bolan began to pace, stomping down the snow with nervous movements. Inside, they had counted four men, each armed with an AK-47. In addition there were the hostages, all bound securely.

There would be no help from them.

"You know, it might be time to take a little risk here, Eli."

"No shit. How the hell else can we get in there? But I'm fresh out of ideas. And if I don't get back to the control room pretty soon, Glinkov is going to wonder where I am. He's already suspicious of me."

"Then we have to move now, don't we?" Bolan said. It wasn't really a question, so Cohen didn't respond.

Bolan stopped pacing and stared at the small cinder block structure. As Cohen watched him, it seemed almost as if the midnight warrior were trying to see through the stone.

After two minutes of silence, Cohen laughed.

"All right, let me hear what you have in mind. I know I won't like it, but what the hell."

"Look, we're sitting here, wondering what to do, because we know which side you're on, right?"

Cohen nodded. "So?"

"We're forgetting one thing. They don't know. As far as they're concerned, you're Glinkov's right-hand man. The boss of security on this operation, right?"

"Go on, I think I see what you're leading up to."

"All you have to do is walk right up to the damn door and knock. They'll let you in. Once you're on the inside everything changes. The odds are in our favor, right?"

"Almost..."

"No almost, Eli, they are. So here's what we'll do. You go on in. Send two of them outside, get them into the trees somehow. Tell them you saw something, or whatever. I'll handle the rest. In the meantime, you can get the drop on the other two. I'll join you as soon as I can. We don't have much of a choice."

Cohen shrugged. "Here goes nothing." He walked out into the open area between the trees and the guardhouse. In a moment he disappeared around the side of the small building.

Bolan heard a heavy rap on the door. Through the window, he saw one of the guards move to open it.

There was some conversation, but the men were too distant for Bolan to hear what was said. Cohen was gesturing with his hands. The voices grew louder, as if someone were arguing with Cohen. Finally one of the men crossed Bolan's line of sight. He disappeared into a corner of the guardhouse, and a coat flew past the window. A moment later the man reappeared, struggling into a heavy parka. The door slammed, and heavy steps sounded on the hardpacked snow. A few seconds later two men rounded the corner, heading in Bolan's direction. They were walking slowly, like kids on the way to school. Bolan didn't know what Cohen had told them, but they obviously weren't happy about his orders. They were grumbling sullenly as they moved into the trees. The Executioner faded back into the shadows. He couldn't afford to jump too soon. A mistake now would blow the whole thing right out of the water. Whatever he did, it had to be silent. And deadly. The men were angry enough to be careless. That was good. But the snow was an enemy here. It hampered Bolan's movements and made silence difficult to maintain. The two men passed within fifteen feet of him. But they were too close to the guardhouse. He'd have to let them get deeper into the trees. As they continued their reluctant tramp, Bolan could hear their muffled exchanges. The taller of the two was complaining. "I never liked Cohen, anyway, I tell you. There's something about him that isn't kosher. No pun intended."

"You're just pissed because he's got Glinkov's ear, that's all."

"Ear hell! If I didn't know better, I'd think he had Glinkov by the balls. Who the hell is he, anyhow? I never saw him before this thing got started. Did you?"

"Shit, that doesn't mean anything. I never saw half of those guys before tonight. You know how Achison works. He keeps everything small. Lots of little groups. None of 'em know anything about any of the others. Better security that way."

"Maybe, but I still say I like to know who the hell I'm working with. I don't like to turn my back on somebody I don't know. Don't like to depend on a stranger, either. You never know what a guy'll do."

"Quit griping. In a few hours we'll all be outta here. And with enough money that we won't have to see snow for a year, either. How bad is that?"

They lapsed into silence. Whatever Cohen had told them, it had worked. They were two hundred yards into the trees and still moving. The Executioner was following them step for step. As they walked, they were growing less cautious. Cohen must have sent them on an errand. They sure didn't act like they were looking for an intruder. So much the better. Glancing over his shoulder, Bolan could no longer see the guardhouse. The trees overhead were moving in a stiff breeze. The clack of their branches would cover his approach. If he were lucky. Brognola had once told him that luck wasn't good enough, and he'd been right. But what Hal never seemed to understand was that, good as he was, he still needed luck on his side. The odds were too great to buck without it. Suddenly the two men entered a small clearing. Their bulky outlines could be seen against the bright snow. They stopped and looked at the sky. One of them dropped to one knee. The other took out a small torch, shining it on the ground in front of his companion. The kneeling man brushed at the snow with his gloved hands while the other bent over his shoulder.

"What the hell are we looking for, anyhow?"

"Cohen says there's a manhole here someplace. Some cables we have to cut or something. Don't look like it to me, though. Hell, how are we supposed to find anything in this snow, anyhow? That bastard."

Mack Bolan nodded with satisfaction. Cohen had done a superb job. It couldn't have been better. Not only did he get them out into the woods, he had them stationary. And preoccupied.

This had to be done as quietly as possible. And done quickly. It was obvious the men were in no mood for an extended search. Bolan withdrew his combat knife and inched forward. He made sure the Beretta was accessible, but it was his backup.

Concealing himself behind the last line of trees at the edge of the clearing, Bolan coiled for the spring. Like a predatory cat, he leaped, covering the last few yards in midair. Before either man was aware of his presence, he had locked his left forearm around the standing man's neck.

"What the hell..." The words were cut off as Bolan drew the razor-sharp blade across his captive's throat. Surprise turned to a gurgle, as blood and air bubbled out through the severed windpipe. Momentarily frozen, the kneeling man struggled to his feet, but the Executioner was too fast for him. He shoved the dead man forward.