Don Pendleton - Day of Mourning

"Is this true, gentlemen? I'm familiar with The Dragon file. Has Stony Man become involved?"

Hal looked itchy to light one of his cigars, but it was widely known that the president was a reformed smoker.

"We do have a three-man combat unit called Able Team that is working The Dragon angle," Hal admitted.

"The Atlantic thing," put in Farnsworth. "That was another angle of it."

"So it came together from different sides," gruffed Brognola. "If Able Team get their hands on The Dragon, it saves CFB the work."

"The Dragon is not the top man in his corner of the world," groused the CFB boss. "He has a partner. You didn't know that because it was our men who developed the intel. The Dragon runs the enforcement arm of the organization. The partner carries the list of names of backers and associates around in his or her head. This partner will sacrifice The Dragon if he has to. It's important to our mission that The Dragon's partner not have any idea that we have a mole inside his organization."

"Get back to Able Team," said Brognola.

"If Able Team had been allowed to hit The Dragon's fortress, the CFB would have risked the operation and the life of the contact we have inside."

"You're speaking of Able Team in the past tense," said Bolan, with a sinking feeling.

"Our man next to The Dragon blew the whistle," Farnsworth said smugly. "The Dragon has been alerted. He's already lit out from that fort of his."

"At least you alerted Able Team," said Hal, but the words came out a question.

"Stony Man has stepped on our toes often enough to need a lesson," growled Farnsworth. "Your men of Able Team are the lesson." He turned to the president. "Sir, we lost two men in Morocco last year because Stony Man operated in the area without CFB clearance. It happened the year before that to an agent in El Salvador."

Bolan felt his fury rising. He slowly got to his feet and felt the eyes of the others following him.

"Are you telling me that you've left our men in those mountains to be slaughtered?"

Bolan hardly recognized his own voice.

"This happens because the CFB and Stony Man are two completely different types of operations trying to do the same job in the same territory," rasped Farnsworth.

The president frowned.

"Dammit, Lee, sometimes you go too damn far."

"My operatives are trained in the art of espionage," Farnsworth insisted. "Their training is rooted in accomplishing a mission without making waves. That's the spy business. These Stony Man, uh, 'combat specialists,' tramp through our well-setup operations like goddamn bulls through a china shop. I submit, Mr. President, that the Stony Man project is crippling us from within. The Phoenix unit should be disbanded."

"Deal me out if you want to," said Bolan softly. "That suits this soldier just fine."

Brognola stood to face Bolan.

"Striker, don't — "

"Please, Colonel, you must understand," said the president in a reasonable tone to Bolan. "I share with my predecessors the view that Stony Man is vital to our national security. Don't you gentlemen feel there is some way for both your units to coexist?"

Bolan turned to the president.

"What does General Crawford say about this?"

Perhaps the driving force in the development of Stony Man, and one of the main reasons Bolan had decided to take on the proffered government-sanctioned job at the end of his Mafia wars, was now-retired Brigadier General James Crawford. He had been Mack Bolan's commanding officer in Vietnam and had been invaluable in making the Phoenix dream a reality.

"As you know, General Crawford oversaw the creation of Stony Man and the CFB," said the president. "Like myself, the general hopes a compromise can be worked out."

Bolan faced the president head-on.

"It will have to wait, sir. I'm needed in the field tonight. You've been briefed on what happened at Stony Man?"

"I have."

"Then you'll understand why I can't spend the night sitting here talking policy. Will that be all, sir?"

A good-natured glint came into the president's eye.

"Yes, Colonel. Thank you for coming. We'll be in touch."

Bolan was in the outer hallway again, slipping on his retrieved shoulder rig, when Hal Brognola caught up with him.

The burly Fed wore a mixed expression of awe and frustration.

"You are the damndest guy," was all Hal could muster.

Bolan stalked outside into the night. Brognola kept pace with him.

"What was that business on the phone about an itch?" asked Hal. "And telling the president to deal you out if he wants to? I think we had better have a serious talk, Striker."

"We will, Hal. But not tonight."

"There you go with 'not tonight' again, just like you told the Man. I want an explanation. I know about the communications blackout at Stony Man Farm. But what makes you so damn sure there's going to be an attack on the Farm tonight?"

"I'm not sure, Hal. I'm not going to Stony Man."

Brognola blinked.

"You're not? Where the blazes are you going?"

Bolan glanced at the city of lights beyond the perimeter of the floodlit White House grounds.

"I'm going out there," Bolan told him. "Konzaki is in a coma, hanging on to life by a thread. Three good men are on the other side of the world and need to be alerted and told that they're walking into a trap."

"You think The Dragon has the place wired?"

Bolan nodded, his face a grim mask.

"With enough firepower to kill Lyons, Schwarz and Blancanales before they know what hit them. And it's about to happen at any minute now, but we can't get word to them because someone sabotaged Stony Man communications. I am going to find who did this to us, Hal. They are not going to get another chance."

"But where will you start? You don't have any leads."

Grimaldi, waiting in the chopper, saw Bolan coming and revved up the engine in preparation for take off.

Bolan raised his voice for Hal to hear.

"I've already started. I'm going to shake this damn town to its roots. I'll get the answers. And it's happening tonight."

Bolan jogged beneath the whirling blades and climbed into the Hughes.

Brognola watched as Grimaldi smoothly lifted them off. The blinking red lights of the chopper grew smaller and smaller as the Hughes receded into the night sky.

Then Brognola gave in to his urge and reached into a pocket for a cigar.

He paused before lighting it, still looking into the dark sky long after the chopper disappeared.

"You are the damndest guy," he said again to no one.

Brognola pocketed the unlit cigar and walked back into the White House.

"Where to?" asked Grimaldi.

The evening lights of Washington and the gridiron arrangement of streets cut by diagonal avenues raced by beneath the chopper's Plexiglas.

"We need an airfield," said Bolan above the steady rumble of the chopper. "I want you on standby alert for the rest of the night."

"Boiling?"

"Not tonight. Make it National. I'll need a car with no government tie-in."

"A rental," said the pilot, glancing at the big warrior beside him. "I've seen you like this before, soldier. You're on the kill. And it's a lone-wolf play, just like it used to be."

Bolan's eyes were chips of ice.

"Patch me through to Stony Man."

Local communications were relayed through a government scrambler frequency.

Kurtzman wasted no time on amenities when the connection was made.

"I have two names and an address for you," the computer expert reported.

"Hold on that," said Bolan. "How's Konzaki?"

"No change," reported Kurtzman. "April has a guard on the door. Two doctors and a nurse are with him right now. It's all we can do."

"Any contact with Able Team yet?"

"Negative. We still can't get through. My guess is they're the same. I've got my crew working without break."