Дэвид Балдаччи - Zero Day

Puller said, “Did you really need the money that badly? To sell out to terrorists? You’re scum.”

“I’ve busted my ass for my country for over thirty years. And in the next round of budget cuts they were going to let me go. I owed them nothing.”

Puller held up a fourth finger.

Mason said, “You said there were only three points.”

“I lied. We nailed Bill Strauss in South America. He took off before the Bunker blew, of course. It wasn’t like he was going to stay around for the mushroom cloud, although he didn’t bother taking his grieving wife. Guy’s a real winner. Oh, did I mention that he ratted you and all your guys out?”

Mason blurted out, “That’s impossible. I spoke to Bill–”

“Yeah, you spoke to him yesterday and today. I was in the room when you did. FBI recorded the whole thing.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“How else do you think I knew all the details I just told you? I’m a pretty good investigator, but Strauss debriefed us on a lot of stuff. Only way I knew about it.”

Mason just kept staring.

Puller said, “So you’re basically sitting on a bunch of nuclear material you’ll never be able to sell. But then again, you don’t need a lot of money in prison. Or if you’re convicted of treason, you get lethal injection. Either way is fine with me.”

Puller looked around and observed that all of Mason’s men were now showing signs of extreme nervousness. That was both good and bad. Good in that nervous men were not as effective fighters. Bad in that nervous armed men did erratic things, and were thus hard to predict.

But even though it was six against one, Puller could sense that they were feeling outnumbered right now.

He looked back at Mason. “You ready to surrender, Joe?” asked Puller.

“I’ll tell you what I’m ready for, Puller. And I’ll tell you right now.”

Mason looked over at the sixth man standing next to the Malibu. He waved him forward. The man was in his middle fifties, dressed in slacks and a light windbreaker though the air was warm and there was no breeze. He had a SIG nine-millimeter held loosely in his right hand. He was two inches shorter than Puller but about twenty pounds heavier. He looked rock solid, mean, and ready to kill.

Mason said, “This is Sergei, Puller. He was in the Soviet army. He specializes in pain, creating it in others, that is. He’s going to take you somewhere and work on you, show you some of his techniques. He’s really the best at what he does.”

Puller gazed over at the other man, who looked back at him with a superior expression.

Puller said, “Soviet army? You guys can’t fight worth shit. You let a bunch of desert farmers kick your ass in Afghanistan.”

Sergei’s confident look went away and was replaced with a murderous one.

Mason said, “I’m not sure that was your smartest move, Puller.”

“Did I hurt your feelings, Sergei? Were you one of the guys who didn’t have the balls to carry a rifle? Did they keep you at the rear to work over the guys who couldn’t fight?”

Sergei looked even more unhinged. Which was Puller’s purpose behind the taunts. Pissed-off people made mistakes. Puller edged a step closer.

Mason said, “Let me give you the rundown, Puller. We’re going to take you to a place where Sergei is going to inflict some real pain on you while I watch. And then we’re going to put you out of your pain permanently. I tried to take you out twice before with bombs, but missed both times. But the third time, as they say, is the charm.”

Puller swung his arms wide and used this movement to distract their attention from him taking two more steps forward. He said, “So that’s the plan? Hope you didn’t spend much time thinking up that one, Joe, because it really sucks.”

“It works just fine for me. And then I have contingency plans, Puller. I always do. Strauss in the federal bag or not, I’m out of here. And don’t even think about putting up a fight. We’ll shoot you right here if you do.”

Puller shrugged. “Well then, let’s get this over with. I’ve got stuff to do today.”

Before Sergei could even bring his gun up Puller struck. His iPod’s edge had been filed down to the sharpness of a Ranger KA-BAR knife.

A second later the entire front of Sergei’s neck was gutted. The Russian fell back against the car, blood pouring down his chest. Puller grabbed Sergei by the collar, swung him around, and knocked the gun out of Mason’s hand. He let the Russian drop to the ground to finish bleeding out. In the next flash of movement he wrapped one arm around Joe Mason’s neck, spun around, lifted the man off his feet, and drove his head right through the windshield of the Malibu.

Mason lay sprawled on the hood, his head a bloody, pulpy mess. Puller didn’t know if he was dead or not. And he didn’t care.

He leaned close to the man and said quietly, “That was for Sergeant Samantha Cole.”

He turned to look at Mason’s remaining men. They were pointing their weapons at him but seemed frozen by the utter ferocity of his attack.

They wouldn’t be frozen for long.

Twenty Army Rangers appeared out of nowhere, in full cammie gear, their MP5s pointed at the four men. Five-to-one kill ratio. The odds of victory for the four were zero.

They dropped their weapons immediately.

As they were being cuffed, Mason pulled free from the windshield, and Sergei placed in a body bag, General Julie Carson emerged from the woods. She checked on Mason and walked over next to Puller. She handed him a bottle of water.

“Figured you worked up a sweat.”

“With the run, yeah. And thanks for giving me a little ‘alone’ time with Mason.”

“No, thank you. I enjoyed watching.”

“Is Mason dead?”

“No. He has a pulse. It’s pretty weak, though.”

“Tell the ambulance to take its time.”

She smiled. “Roger that.”

“Not that we needed it, but I’m assuming you got all that recorded?”

Carson held up a flash drive. “You know how seriously the United States Army takes surveillance. Although, I do think we might conveniently lose the footage of you taking the Russian and Mason out. I mean, who needs to know about that?”

He smiled. “I guess I didn’t expect that sort of nuance from you, General Carson.”

She returned the smile. “I have a few surprises. And we’re off the clock, so it’s Julie.”

“Okay, Julie.”

She watched the men being driven off. “I guess it was all for the money.”

“Guess so. The nukes?”

“They’re not on the market yet, so we’ll get them. That’s all these guys have to bargain with to escape the death penalty now.”

Puller looked over at his damaged car. “Guess I can’t drive that.”

“Not to worry. I’ll give you a lift.”

“Thanks.”

“And maybe we can have that drink.”

“Maybe we can.”

Puller said, “You’re a hero, Bobby. You saved a town, probably an entire state.”

He was seated across from his brother at USDB.

Robert Puller appeared to be trying hard to hide his pleasure at this statement. It was the first time at USDB that Puller had ever seen his brother wear an expression approaching pride.

“Did they deliver the commendation to you?”

Robert nodded. “A first for USDB. Not sure they knew what to do.”

“I bet.”

“I’m sorry about your friend, Sam Cole.”

“And I’m sorry they didn’t see fit to commute your sentence.”

“Did you really expect them to? The military does not second-guess itself. That would be tantamount to admitting a mistake, and the military doesn’t do that either.”