Don Pendleton: Death Minus Zero

Familiarity with the situation may have been partly to blame, even though Valens would take it badly. The protocols in place had been working well. Kaplan was delivered to the AF base and returned home each evening— unless some urgent matter arose with Zero. It had become the norm. Perhaps too much so. The delivery of Kaplan to the base, a routine that had been smooth and undisturbed, had become an accepted ritual. The route changed daily, allowing for some flexibility, and operated with clockwork efficiency. Valens was charged with on-base security, the Air Force with the actual fetching and carrying of the man who was responsible for the oversight of the Zero Platform’s daily routines.

Over the preceding months, the ongoing routine never varied. Kaplan in. Work done. Kaplan home. A hard routine. It was as set as the ticking of a clock. Checks were made on timing and routes. The Air Force maintained a tight schedule for the daily trip—which was the reason Kaplan’s absence was picked up so soon after the event.

Even so, Kaplan was gone.

Where, no one knew.

The why was a little easier to work out.

The man carried knowledge of the operation and the know-how about Zero.

The platform was up and running, monitored day and night.

Kaplan’s imaginative dream had become a working reality, giving America a unique piece of hardware.

Everyone at Zero Command would know with all certainty why Kaplan had been taken.

A deliberate attempt at gaining a hold over Zero’s creator and possibly an outright and hostile try for the platform itself.

That seemed to have been the easy part.

The hard part—getting him back alive and well—was something else.

* * *

WHOEVER WAS BEHIND the kidnapping had upfront knowledge. The AF vehicle had been fitted with a tracking device that had gone off-line. And Kaplan himself had an implanted signal tracker that was supposed to show his whereabouts. It was not transmitting, either. The snatch had been well planned. The disabling of the trackers only highlighted how well organized the kidnappers had been.

Claire Valens took note of these items. It concerned her that somewhere, someone had gained such knowledge and used it against Zero.

She was unable to stop wondering what came next.

Valens felt her thoughts turning toward Major Doug Buchanan, the man who controlled Zero’s 24/7 functions through his command position. Buchanan would not be happy when he learned about Kaplan’s kidnapping. Buchanan had an abiding faith in the man. There was more than the simple dependency that Buchanan had with Kaplan. He had become so tied in with Zero’s creator the bond was as strong as Buchanan’s with his biocouch. Maybe even stronger.

Buchanan, for all his characteristic strength, depended on Saul Kaplan as a son with a father. It had become far more than their working relationship. Buchanan owed his continuing existence to Kaplan’s genius, to the superior intellect that had devised and overseen the electronic wonder of the Zero Platform. It had been Buchanan’s salvation, drawing him back from a certain, painful death and allowing him the opportunity to carry on doing what he loved—working for his country. Offering back something for the debt he would never be able to pay completely.

Doug Buchanan knew and accepted that he was as much a part of Zero now as one of the circuit boards. An integral part of the complex machine Kaplan had envisaged and seen through to completion, Buchanan knew his life was with Zero. The ravaging cancer that had started him on the countdown to the end of his life was held at bay by the bioimplants that fed his body on a continuous basis, holding the cancerous cells at bay and maintaining his existence.

Buchanan had only asked Kaplan once how it worked. Kaplan’s explanation had lost him within the first couple of minutes and Buchanan had asked him to stop. Buchanan decided the only thing he needed to know was that the process worked. As long as he remained on his biocouch, linked to the system via the implants in his body, he would survive. The question as to how long never came up. To have been given even a short extension to his life was enough. The fact that it allowed him to function in his capacity as an Air Force officer, defending his country, was reward enough.

The multiple functions of Zero, as a defensive as well as an offensive weapon, presented Buchanan with day-to-day operational involvement. His routines were mapped out for him by the electronic machine that surrounded and sustained him. Buchanan monitored and collated information, passed it back to Zero Command and took his orders from the base.

Learning that his mentor had been spirited away would not be welcome news to Buchanan. He would utilize Zero’s functions to search for him, and Doug Buchanan’s unflagging spirit would not back away from that task.

If there was a chance to locate Kaplan, Valens thought, Buchanan would do his best to find it.

CHAPTER TWO

China

Colonel Xia Chan had the ghost of a smile of satisfaction on his face as he replaced the telephone receiver on its cradle. Such shows of pleasure were unexpected. He was a solemn man, entirely dedicated to his position and responsibilities, so the officials gathered in his presence were surprised at the emotion. Chan sat back in his seat, facing the group of men around the conference table. His hands were placed on the smooth surface, fingers tapping gently. He studied the group until he was satisfied he had their full attention.

“It has begun,” he announced. “The successful apprehension of the American Saul Kaplan has taken place. Even as I speak, he is being moved on the first stage of the journey that will remove him from the country.”

A thin-faced, balding major asked, “Are congratulations in order, Colonel?”

“A little premature, Ling. Let us wait until the man has been removed from American soil. It’s not wise to presume too much.”

Ling nodded. “Perhaps you are right, Colonel.”

“Even so, we should be allowed a degree of satisfaction. As operations go, this first phase appears to have been executed with precision and timing.”

“That was thought when the first strike against the Zero operation was mounted.”

The speaker was seated halfway along the table. A thick-set figure with a shaved head set on a squat neck, Yang Zhou was wearing civilian clothing. As always, he looked as though he had just stepped out of a tailor’s store; Zhou made no concessions to the austere dress code of the Chinese system. No one ever thought about challenging him over that. The man was head of a security section and had complete autonomy over what he said and did. He was on this occasion assigned to be Colonel Chan’s personal bodyguard, ordered to accompany him wherever he went and to protect him. The order had come from the highest authority, and even Zhou was required to accept.

“Zhou, we are talking about something that happened a number of years ago,” Chan said. “I have read the reports that were written about the affair. General Tung Shan paid the price because his operation was ill-conceived and he failed to anticipate the opposition. He made his strike on American soil and was in unknown territory. There was no backing for him. No means to call in assistance when things began to go wrong.”

“He was reckless,” Zhou argued. “He placed his people in jeopardy and they were abandoned.”

“If I remember correctly, didn’t a couple of Shan’s team desert and stay in America?” Major Ling returned.

Chan nodded. “It has not been forgotten. Shao Yeng and Yin Tang. To date we have not been able to locate them. But the search continues. When they defected, they were in possession of a great deal of money that had been allocated to the mission. That will have enabled them to move around and stay concealed.” He raised his hands. “As we are all aware, if you have money in America it is possible to buy anything. Including anonymity.”