Don Pendleton - Maelstrom

“What happened?”

“Apparently a dozen or more heavily armed men, which by the way have not yet been identified, attacked during the middle of a demonstration and began shelling the area with grenades and automatic weapons fire. Security teams responded, including Phoenix Force, but apparently there were some casualties. One of them was identified as a black man belonging to a, quote ‘private security detachment assigned to the conference,’ end quote.”

“Calvin.”

“There’s no confirmation of that yet,” Brognola reminded her with a stern look and a wagging finger. “And there have also been no reports of any deaths, so let’s not jump to any conclusions until we know what the hell is going on.”

“Well, why haven’t we heard from Phoenix yet?”

“I’m not sure,” Brognola replied. “It may be that if one of them was injured, they’re getting medical attention first. I’m sure David will contact us when he can.”

As if on cue, a buzzing sounded on Brognola’s phone. It was a unique signal that indicated the call was coming from the internal voice and data communications network that connected the farmhouse with the Annex, a new underground facility that housed highly advanced centers for communication, cybernetics and security to support all of Stony Man’s operations.

“Brognola,” the Stony Man chief barked into the phone. “They are? All right, we’ll be right there.”

Price wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him move so fast. Brognola was out of his chair and hurrying toward the electric car that ran nearly a quarter-mile underground between the farmhouse and the Annex. Price followed him with all of the same vigor.

The big Fed flipped a switch and the car obediently surged toward the Annex. “That was Aaron on the phone. He says that David’s called in.”

“Did he say how he sounded?”

Brognola shook his head. “I don’t think Aaron knows yet that there was even trouble.”

“Well, if I know David, he knows now.”

They arrived at the Annex and a minute later they were standing outside the Computer Room, their way blocked by a burly guy with a wrestler-like body that was, unfortunately, confined to a wheelchair for life. Still, that fact had never broken the mind or the spirit of Aaron “The Bear” Kurtzman. The indomitable technology genius greeted them at the door and raised a cautionary hand.

“Everyone’s okay,” Kurtzman reported. He fixed Brognola with a gentler expression and added, “Including Calvin.”

Price felt the anxiety ebb from her and she could literally see the tension dissipate in Brognola’s shoulders. She thought it odd that she could read her boss, even from the rear, but the tension in his posture had been so evident that the relief could only be equally so.

Kurtzman turned and entered the Computer Room, followed by Brognola and Price.

Brognola said to strategically placed speaker phones, “David, you with us?”

“Yes, and you bloody well kept me waiting long enough here, Hal.”

Price couldn’t help but smile. She winked at Brognola when he looked at her and smiled triumphantly before saying, “Report.”

McCarter sighed. “We took some pretty bad hits. This has to be one of the worst security gigs we’ve ever done.”

“I just got off the phone with the Man, and he tells me the Australian government was hedging when briefing the SOD.”

“That’s a mild understatement, “ McCarter replied. “They had just completed their fourth demonstration and were about to move on in the presentation when it all hit the bloody fan. Aggressors were dressed in standard desert camouflage fatigues, carrying a variety of automatic rifles and machine pistols, and launching high-explosive grenades into the area like it was free.”

“How many are we talking here?”

“A dozen, give or take. We managed to bring down about half before it all went to hell.”

“Were you able to determine origin?” Price interjected.

“No, but there wasn’t exactly time to ask them where they were from, and none of us got close enough to tell. They were definitely thorough. They not only got the weapons, but they managed to round up their dead.”

“Obviously looking to avoid any type of identification,” Price concluded.

Brognola nodded at her, then asked, “What’s Calvin’s status?”

“He’ll pull through. The bugger took a bit of shell shock. The concussions from their HE grenades damn near knocked us all batty. We had to get him and all of the civilians evacuated first before I could touch base with you. We’re at our hotel now and this is the first chance they’ve given us to contact you.”

“First chance who’s given you?”

“Investigators from the Crown,” McCarter replied in a sour tone.

“They have no right to hold you under any circumstances,” Brognola replied. “I made sure your credentials granted you diplomatic immunity. I’ll make a call and get you released.”

“Well, make it quick, will you? We’re in a foul mood here, and the rest of the blokes are about to vote on making a break for it and shooting our bloody way out of here. Can’t say as I blame them, and I might just do it anyway.”

“Don’t cause any trouble. Just hang tight and keep a low profile. I promise I’ll have you out of there within the hour. In the meantime, give me whatever else you can.”

“Well, I can tell you this was no ordinary terrorist attack.”

“How so?”

“Our friends here had a particular goal in mind. They came with the intent to steal the new prototypes from Stormalite Systems, and that’s just what they did. It didn’t seem like they were interested in taking hostages or murdering innocent civilians.”

“So they weren’t looking for shock value,” Brognola said. “Go on.”

“It also seems obvious they knew exactly what they were doing, Hal, and they got away with it. Their tactics were ingenious and unfamiliar. I don’t think I’ve fought against a group quite like this. Very methodical and calculated.”

“You said there were maybe a dozen or so?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, so that means just a small group was trained for this operation. And given they knew what to hit and how to hit it, I’d have to guess very specialized in these kinds of operations. I agree with your assessment. This was no ordinary terrorist attack. This was a military operation.”

“Or at least an attack by a group well-versed in military tactics,” Price added.

Kurtzman shook his head with a disbelieving expression. “Mercenaries?”

“Possibly,” Brognola replied. “It would explain the theft of these prototypes.”

“Well, I managed to get in a few words with the blokes from Stormalite before reinforcements showed up. Thanks to Cowboy, I managed to glean the inventory that was stolen. I’ve got it here on our transceiver if you want me to send it.”

“Do it,” Brognola said, nodding at Kurtzman.

The computer wizard did a one-eighty in his chair through a single motion from his powerful arms and raced over to a communications console. He got to the nearest keyboard, which consisted of nothing but a flat rubber base with soft-touch keys, and quickly entered a fifteen-character alphanumeric code. A moment later tones similar to a fax-modem resounded through the room in bursts. The data transmission took less than thirty seconds.

“Bear, did you get it all?” Brognola asked when the tones ended.

Kurtzman checked the large, flat-panel LCD monitor at a nearby workstation and nodded. “You bet. Looks like there’s a full inventory here of everything they had, plus schematics. Very nice work, David. But how did you get all of this in such a short period of time?”

“I downloaded from one of the engineer’s notebooks.”