Don Pendleton - Day of Mourning

"I, uh, know of the difficulties you're having with Lee Farnsworth."

"That's not what I mean."

Bolan told the general about the sabotage of the Farm's communications system and the blood hunt that had taken John Phoenix to the Mafia, the Armenians, the CIA and Grover Jones and his pals.

He explained to the retired officer that he still did not have any answers as to who was behind the sabotage that so endangered Able Team and put a good man in a coma.

"The only way it plays is that Jones subcontracted a hit on me," finished Bolan. "Whoever wanted me hit knew about the CIA surveillance on those Armenians. They knew enough to figure that I would try for the Armenians on my own because their arrival in the city coincided with the sabotage."

"The someone you want seems to know a lot," said the general. "Do you think Kelly would know who hired Jones?"

"If Jones is big enough to subcontract a hit, he's smart enough to keep that kind of information to himself," said Bolan. "If he did have a name, it'd be just another middleman like himself."

"You must have some ideas."

"Some," acknowledged Bolan. "That's another reason I brought Kelly home to you, sir, instead of dropping her off somewhere. I could use your help."

"In what way, Colonel? I had a hand in designing the Stony Man and Central Foreign Bureau operations, but security requires that I keep my distance from both units."

"That's why you're the man, sir. I want a full rundown on Lee Farnsworth. Everything that didn't make his 201 file. There should be a lot. He's been in covert operations a long time."

"Farnsworth? You don't think he's behind the sabotage?"

"There's as good a case against the CFB as there was against those Armenians," growled Bolan. "The timing is right."

"Colonel, believe me, Farnsworth is as much a patriot as you are."

"Then you won't turn up anything. You had access to that information when you considered Farnsworth for the job, didn't you?"

"Let me get this straight," said Crawford. "You're suggesting that the head of the Central Foreign Bureau is a mole out to destroy the Stony Man operation?"

"I'm suggesting nothing," said Bolan. "I'm still looking. And I can't afford to slow down." He got to his feet. "You'll have to excuse me now, sir. I'll keep in touch."

The general stood and they left the kitchen.

"I'll do as you ask, certainly," said Crawford. "I've known you a long time, soldier. Long enough to trust your judgment. I just hope you're wrong this time. About Farnsworth and the CFB, I mean. I feel the same way about that outfit as I do about you and the bunch at Stony Man.''

The two men faced each other at the front door.

"I'll try to pick up Jones's trail," said Bolan. "Any idea where the guy hangs out?"

A voice answered from the top of the stairs.

"He hangs out at a club called the Tattle Tail," Kelly Crawford told Bolan. "That's T-A-I-L." She gave him the address. He committed it to memory. "A joint," she added, not moving from the head of those stairs. "A rough place."

Kelly had cleaned up her act. A shower had buffed her blond beauty to a fine glow. Even her wet hair did not detract from her fresh good looks. She was clad in a floor-length robe that clung to her figure.

"I'll take my chances," growled Bolan. "Thanks, Kelly."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, not making eye contact with Bolan or her father. "I've been an immature, stupid fool. I'm sorry."

"You're home now," said the general. "That's the important thing. Rest up. We'll talk about it in the morning."

"I'm home because of this man," said Kelly. She looked at Bolan for the first time. "Who are you, mister?"

"The name is Phoenix," Bolan told her. "Kelly, do you have any other ideas where Grover will hole up if the club doesn't pan out?"

"If Grover isn't at the Tattle Tail, someone there will know where to find him," she assured Bolan. "It's his turf. He used to take me there so all his pimp friends could see his fine white bitch."

"Please, Kelly — " began her father.

"I was a fool, and I've got to admit it aloud to both of you or it won't mean anything at all," said Kelly. "I was slumming with some real slime, wasn't I, Mr. Phoenix?"

"The slimiest," Bolan acknowledged. "And one of them is still out there. Grover will need a doctor, but he won't go to a hospital. He's holed up someplace right now where he thinks he's safe. That's the edge I need. He won't be moving. I will. And I've got to start moving right now. Good night, both of you. And thanks."

"Thank you," said Kelly to the Executioner. "I thought I loved a man who cared about me. But all he did was use me. I guess he was using me all along. Thank you for saving my life and making me see that." Then she looked at her father and her voice quavered. "I'm sorry, daddy. I really am."

Then she turned and padded off down the upstairs hallway.

Bolan and General Crawford stepped out onto the front porch.

"My thanks too, Mack. It's good to see you again.'' Crawford saw only the Lancia in the driveway. "Take the Lancia, you'll be needing some wheels. Good luck. God bless you."

The two warriors shook hands, then embraced warmly like the brothers they were.

Bolan climbed into the Lancia and roared away from there, angling back toward the Roosevelt Bridge and D.C.

He would get rid of the Lancia at the first car-rental agency he came to. Then he would phone the general to pick it up.

He was driving a car registered to General Crawford.

That would make it easy for someone to identify.

Someone in the know, the general had said.

Who?

Farnsworth?

Could General Crawford be involved?

Bolan felt a flash of angry guilt at that last thought.

He pulled up at a pay phone by a closed service station. He dialed a number that was routed from a scrambler station in B.C. through a computerized reroute via Miami, Flagstaff and Missoula, Montana, before buzzing the switchboard at Stony Man Farm's central control.

April answered.

"Stony Man."

"It's me, mother hen."

Bolan could feel the woman of his heart smiling at him over the line.

"Striker, it's good to hear from you. How's it going?"

"Swinging. I could fill a book. What's the situation there?"

"Some very bad news, some not so bad. Konzaki is dead. He never came out of the coma."

Bolan felt something cold run down his spine.

"Now it's personal," was all he said.

"Maybe you should be back here," said April. "It's past midnight. If there is going to be an assault on the Farm tonight, shouldn't you be here?"

"I'm twenty minutes away," said Bolan. "You're just lonesome."

April chuckled, and the intimate sound of it made the warrior wish for one instant that he and this woman were together and none of this was happening.

"I'm lonesome for you, Captain Hellfire. Men, we've got plenty of. Phoenix Force arrived an hour ago."

"What about the communications repair?"

"That's the not so very bad news," said April. "The Bear is out there now. The parts just arrived."

"Still no word from Able Team?"

"Still no word. I take it you have no intention of returning here until and if you're needed?"

"There's a hot time in the old town tonight," Bolan told her. "I've got some more cage-rattling to do. Konzaki's soul won't rest until it's done. Neither will mine."

"Hal has been calling. He wants you to contact him."

"I'll bet he does. Tell him the trail's too hot right now for talk."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Run a tracer on Grover Jones, a.k.a. Damu Abdul Ali. Recent dishonorable discharge from the Army."

"Will do. Anything else?"

"Uh, yeah. See what you can come up with on General James Crawford."

"The general? But, Mack — "