Tom Clancy - Without Remorse

'Please... you don't mean you're...'

'Sorry, honey, but that's just the way things are,' another voice said. 'I'll do the front.'

Kelly eased down the corridor. Again the floor was unobstructed, just dirty. The wooden floor was old, but had been recent -

- It creaked -

'What's that?'

Kelly froze for the briefest moment, but there was neither time nor a place to hide, and he darted the last fifteen feet, then dived in low and rolled to unmask his pistol.

There were two men, both in their twenties, just shapes, really, as his mind filtered out the irrelevancies and concentrated on what mattered now: size, distance, movement. One was reaching for a gun as Kelly rolled, and even got his gun out of his belt and coming around before two rounds entered his chest and another his head. Kelly brought his weapon around even before the body fell.

'Jesus Christ! Okay! Okay!' A small chrome revolver dropped to the floor There was a loud scream from the front of the building, which Kelly ignored as he got back to his feet, his automatic locked on the second man as though connected by a steel rod.

'They're gonna kill us.' It was a surprisingly mousy voice, frightened but slow from whatever she was using.

'How many?' Kelly snapped at her.

'Just these two, they're going to -'

'I don't think so,' Kelly told her, standing. 'Which one are you?'

'Paula.' He was covering his target.

'Where are Maria and Roberta?'

'They're in the front room,' Paula told him, still too disoriented to wonder how he knew the names. The other man spoke for her.

'Passed out, pal, okay?' Let's talk, the man's eyes tried to say.

'Who are you?' There was just something about a.45 that made people talk, Kelly thought, not knowing what his eyes looked like behind the sights.

'Frank Molinari.' An accent, and the realization that Kelly wasn't a policeman.

'Where from, Frank? - You stay put!' Kelly told Paula with a pointed left hand. He kept the gun level, eyes sweeping around, ears searching for a danger sound.

'Philly. Hey, man, we can talk, okay?' He was shaking, eyes flickering down to the gun he'd just dropped, wondering what the hell was happening.

Why was somebody from Philadelphia doing Henry's dirty work? Kelly's mind raced. Two of the men at the lab had sounded the same way. Tony Piaggi. Sure, the mob connection, and Philadelphia...

'Ever been to Pittsburgh, Frank?' Somehow the question just popped out.

Molinari took his best guess. It was not a good one. 'How did you know that? Who you working for?'

'Killed Doris and her father, right?'

'It was a job, man, ever do a job?'

Kelly gave him the only possible answer, and there was another scream from the front as he brought the gun back in close to his chest. Time to think. The clock was still ticking. Kelly walked over and yanked Paula to her feet.

"That hurts!'

'Come on, let's get your friends.'

Maria was wearing only panties and was too stoned to do any looking. Roberta was conscious and afraid. He didn't want to look at them, not now. He didn't have time. Kelly got them together and forced them down the stairs, then outside. None had shoes, and the combination of drugs and the grit and glass on the sidewalk made them walk in a crippled fashion, whimpering and crying on their way east. Kelly pushed at them, growled at them, making them move faster, fearing nothing more grave than a passing car, because that was enough to wreck everything he'd done. Speed was vital, and it took ten minutes as endless as his race down the hill from sender green, but the police car was still there where he'd left it. Kelly unlocked the front and told the women to get in. He'd lied about the keys.

'What the fuck!' Monroe objected. Kelly handed the keys to Paula, who seemed the best able to drive. At least she was able to hold her head up. The other two huddled on the right side, careful to keep their legs away from the radio.

'Officer Monroe, these ladies will be driving you to your station. I have instructions for you. You ready to listen?'

'I got a choice, asshole?'

'You want to play power games or do you want some good information?' Kelly asked as reasonably as he could. Two pairs of sober eyes lingered in a long moment of contact. Monroe swallowed hard on his pride and nodded..

'Go ahead.'

'Sergeant Tom Douglas is the man you want to talk to - nobody else, just him. These ladies are in some really deep shit. They can help you break some major cases. Nobody but him - that's important, okay?' You fuck that up and we'll meet again, Kelly's eyes told him.

Monroe caught all the messages and nodded his head. 'Yeah.'

'Paula, you drive, don't stop for anything, no matter what he says, you got that?' The girl nodded. She'd seen him kill two men. 'Get moving!'

She really was too intoxicated to drive, but it was the best he could do. The police car crept away, scraping a telephone pole halfway down the alley. Then it turned the corner and was gone. Kelly took a deep breath, turning back to where his own auto was. He hadn't saved Pam. He hadn't saved Doris. But he had saved these three, and Xantha, at a peril to his life that had at turns been both unintentional and necessary. It was almost enough.

But not quite.

The two- truck convoy had to take a route even more circuitous than planned, and they didn't arrive at the destination until after noon. That was Hoa Lo Prison. The name meant 'place of cooking fires,' and its reputation was well known to the Americans. When the trucks had pulled into the courtyard and the gates were secure, the men were let down. Again, each man was given an individual guard who took him inside. They were allowed a drink of water and nothing more before assignment to individual cells that were scattered around, and presently Robin Zacharias found his. It wasn't much of a change, really. He found a nice piece of floor and sat down, tired from the journey, resting his head against the wall. It took several minutes before he heard the tapping.

Shave and a haircut, six-bits.

Shave and a haircut, six-bits.

His eyes opened. He had to think. The POWs used a communications code as simple as it was old, a graphic alphabet.

?

?

?

tap- tap-tap-tap-tap pause tap-tap

5/2, Robin thought, the novelty of the moment fighting through fatigue. Letter W. Okay. I can do this.

2/3, 3/4, 4/2, 4/5 tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap... Robin broke that off for his reply

tap- tap-tap-tap-tap-tap

Al Wallace? Al? He's alive?

tap- tap-tap-tap-tap-tap

HOW U? he asked his friend of fifteen years.

MAKIN IT came the reply, then an addition for his fellow Utahan.

1/3, 3/4, 3/2, 1/5, 1/3, 3/4, 3/2, 1/5, 5/4, 1/5