Don Pendleton - Hellfire Code

Neely’s sneered. “That’s also seven people who won’t watch their sons and daughters graduate high school, or spend Christmas with their families. Seven people who won’t kiss their children good-night. Seven people who won’t attend church this Sunday. Doesn’t sound like much to be proud of.”

“So, you’re not going to let go of that,” Downing said. “I see. That’s too bad, Mr. Neely, because I had big plans for you.”

“Really.”

“Indeed. You’re well respected in the intelligence community, with many good connections. You could probably provide me with significant information. At best, you could identify the individual who keeps meddling into these affairs.”

“I’ve already told you, I don’t know who he is,” Neely protested. “He uses the name Matt Cooper, but it’s an alias and not one I can find in any of our systems. He’s probably some kind of black ops. We were friends…sort of. But I’m sure by now he knows I betrayed him. Plus, I don’t know how much more use I could be to you. Somebody was following me.”

Downing could see Stezhnya become immediately alert. “Who followed you?”

“Don’t worry,” Neely said. He waved it away. “I made sure to lose him well before I got here. But I don’t know who he is. I’m assuming he’s either with the NSA or a Company man.”

Downing looked at Stezhnya and frowned. “You need to take care of that.”

“Yes, sir,” Stezhnya replied.

“Now just wait a goddamned minute,” Neely cut in. “Don’t start going around killing our spooks, or you’re going to bring a whole shitload of people down on your operations here, and I’m sure you’re anxious to avoid that kind of attention. Besides, this guy isn’t important enough to worry about.”

“What makes you think so?” Stezhnya asked.

Neely looked at the man and expressed incredulity. “What are you, some sort of ignoramus? If he knew anything about you two, he wouldn’t have been assigned to watch me. You go and off the guy, you’re just proving to whoever he’s working for that there’s something to have them concerned. That’ll just send a message they need to come down and look at things more closely.”

Neely looked at Downing and pleaded, “That’s why you should forget about me. I’m no more good to you, because I don’t know anything else. I just want to be left alone. If I don’t do anything to arouse this guy’s suspicions, then that should be enough to throw him off your trail.”

Downing studied Neely for nearly a minute, looked for deception. He had to admit Neely was right. Their work sat at a critical juncture, and he didn’t want to call unnecessary attention to this area. The Philippines were his central base of operations. He couldn’t afford to have soldiers of the same side scrutinizing this part of the country too closely. Up until now he had the luxury of operating in secret, and when he was so close to the goal he needed to maintain the status quo.

“Okay, Mr. Neely, what you say makes sense,” Downing said. “For now, you’re free to go. But don’t make any attempt to contact this man or do anything foolish.”

“Fine,” Neely replied. As he rose from his chair and headed for the door, he added, “Just try not to kill any more noncombatants. Okay? I don’t like being a participant to murder.”

Something turned cold in Downing’s otherwise impassive expression. “I don’t like to brag, Mr. Neely, but we’re just getting started. Part of this operation was a way of raising support for the OSI, to be sure, but we’ve only scratched the surface. Before all is said and done we’re going to show the world we take care of our own, and in so doing will send the terrorists a message.”

“Oh, yeah?” Neely scoffed. “And what kind of a message is that? Your wanton disregard for human life?”

“Not at all,” Downing replied. “We’re going to demonstrate what kind of trouble they’ve bought themselves for threatening the peace and stability of America. In just a short time, we’re going to bring hell itself to them.”

Mack Bolan couldn’t be sure if he or Peter Hagen had been the target, although it hardly mattered at this point. Rain and plaster chips rained on him from the fractured ceiling. The soldier choked back a cough. He couldn’t allow himself to succumb to the dust-thickened air as long as the threat remained.

Bolan watched bullets dance across a nearby wall. China inside a cedar cabinet burst under their impact. The rounds shattered the glass in the doors and ripped massive gouges in the antique wood. A bullet trail stitched the wall and headed directly for Lupe, who now stood in the entryway of the den and screamed in horror at the sight of Hagen’s torn and broken body. Bolan leaped to his feet and threw his body toward Lupe, tackling the maid as a continuous stream of autofire buzzed the air where she’d stood a millisecond earlier. They hit the ground hard and the impact knocked the wind from the woman.

Bolan ordered her to keep her head down, drew and primed the Beretta, then crawled to the front door. He reached up, yanked on the latch-style handle, and opened the door wide enough to crawl onto the porch. The soldier rolled into the L-shaped hedge for cover, then risked a glance over the top.

A dark sedan sat parked at the curb and three men dressed in black stood in a line just outside its open doors. Bolan watched as they ceased firing their Uzi submachine guns and took a moment to reload. The Executioner seized the advantage in the lull. He pushed his body beneath the base of the hedge and came out the opposite side with a perfect field of fire on the enemy. He aligned his sights on the nearest target and squeezed the trigger. The single 9 mm Parabellum round took the man in the face. The impact spun the gunner and slammed him into the open door.

The other pair was still trying to reload while frantically searching for Bolan. One man reached down to grab his deceased comrade and drag him inside the sedan while the second guy fumbled with a fresh magazine. Bolan decided to change tactics, to prevent the enemy’s escape. He realigned his pistol sights on the driver’s side of the front windshield and pumped two slugs into it. The driver’s skull exploded into a gory mess under the Executioner’s skilled marksmanship.

Bolan returned his attention to the more immediate threat, which had now identified his position and was swinging an Uzi in his direction. The soldier thumbed the selector switch to 3-shot mode, snap-aimed and squeezed the trigger. The trio of 9 mm stingers struck groin, stomach and chest. The man dropped his weapon and grabbed at his stomach. His body pitched forward a moment later and landed prone on the wet lawn.

The remaining gunner had the body of one of his cohorts halfway inside the sedan when he saw the second man fall. Obviously he realized self-preservation was his only remaining option, so he quickly dived into the front seat and crawled to the driver’s side. Bolan climbed to his feet and sprinted toward the sedan as the surviving gunner fought with the deadweight of the body behind the wheel. The engine suddenly roared to life. Tires spun on the slick pavement as the sedan rocketed away from the curb.

Bolan changed direction and headed for his own car. He figured if he played his cards right, the guy would try to return to the safety of his own kind, and that meant he’d lead the Executioner right to the answers.

Bolan jumped behind the wheel, started the engine and gave chase to the fleeing sedan. He didn’t know exactly where it would all lead him, but he was desperate for answers. The enemy had been onto him since his arrival in Atlanta, and perhaps even before that. He didn’t like the thought that Roger Neely had betrayed him, but there was no other reasonable explanation. Few people outside of Stony Man should have known of any connection between what had happened in Atlanta and Dr. Peter Hagen. The only other people who would have that kind of information were Downing and any people he had on the inside.