Don Pendleton: Chain Reaction

Duncan had built his team by handpicking each member. Yet even that did not preclude someone slipping inside who had a less-than-honest mandate. Ray Talbot had been working in the field under the charge of Duncan’s most trusted—and in this case there was no chance of any suspicion—team leader. Special Agent Sarah Mitchell, early thirties, was a young woman who had come up through the ranks as a Duncan protégée. Smart and capable, she had sailed through FBI training and once in the field had exhibited a natural resourcefulness in her work. Intuitive, she saw things that others might easily miss, and she picked up on the minutia of operating procedure with ease. She also had a willful nature that sometimes got the better of her. Not deliberately smart-mouthed, she could exchange banter with the best, and on more than one occasion her eagerness almost got the better of her.

Duncan found her refreshing. He would have willingly put himself on the line for her, knowing that in any situation she would always have his back. In terms of the physicality of FBI work she was hard to beat. Her marksmanship, with a variety of weapons, was always at the top of the score card.

He had put her in charge of the current phase of the Hegre investigation. She had taken a keen interest in the matter, to the point that Duncan had to remind her to treat it like any operation. He understood her frustration. Sarah Mitchell hated being beaten and no matter how sophisticated Hegre appeared to be, to Mitchell it was simply another criminal organization and as such she channeled her energy toward bringing it down. SAC Duncan had laid out her assignment, then given her free rein to run the operation on her own, with his overall supervision.

The past week had brought nothing. Duncan sensed, from her emailed reports and his talks with her via phone, that Mitchell was becoming frustrated at the lack of progress. And as time went by Duncan himself started to experience concern. In part that was because of his suspicion there might be a Hegre mole within the unit. He was searching to uncover evidence that would expose the traitor, hating the thought that Mitchell and her team might be in harm’s way.

He avoided voicing his concern. The problem with unearthing an insider was the undeniable fact that bringing his thoughts into the open might simply play into the guilty person’s hands. At worst he might find himself talking to the traitor without knowing. It was one of those situations where unburdening himself might come back to bite him. He needed to move slowly, keep his wits about him, and not show his hand.

But now he needed a presence on the case, an independent presence not part of the FBI, but with a feel for Hegre and the ability to move in ways that weren’t possible for Duncan’s people. A man he could trust.

Matt Cooper was free of any inside influence, a man who could move through the morass of regulations as he homed in on the perpetrators.

Duncan’s personal cell phone connected and the voice he remembered from their last meeting came through.

“SAC Duncan, Cooper. Hal Brognola told me you could be reached at this number. Are you free to talk?”

“Yeah, he mentioned that you needed to reach me. You sound like a man with a problem, Duncan.”

“Damn right. And it’s the same problem that brought us together last time.”

“Hegre?”

“Yes.”

“They operating again?”

“You know we’ve been working on cracking their cover since the smallpox affair. And we’ve barely scratched the surface. Then we got a break. Not a massive one, but enough for me to send in part of my task force to check it out. Up in the Northwest. A couple of my people vanished. Now one of them has turned up dead, tortured before he was killed.”

“Sorry to hear that, Duncan.”

“The agent’s name was Ray Talbot. He was young and a real go-getter. His partner Jake Bermann has vanished. There are two other agents on the team, and they’re looking for him—my case agent Sarah Mitchell and the fourth member of the team, Joseph Brewster.”

“Lots of open country up there,” Bolan said. “It would be easy to get lost.”

“I received an email from Ray. It must have been caught up in some sort of server glitch because it was sent a couple of days ago, about when he vanished off the radar. So we lost any chance of getting to him before he died.”

“I’m guessing you haven’t told the rest of the team that he’s dead. There must be a reason.”

“You remember we had a leak during the smallpox operation?”

“And you identified him. Are you saying you might have another leak?”

“I’ll give you a clue, Cooper. This call is being made on my personal cell.”

“Understood.”

“You told me to contact you if there was a new lead. That’s what I’m doing. I need an outside source. Someone off the record and with the know-how to work on his own.”

“I’m listening.”

“I can send you the coordinates Ray Talbot attached to his email, a location in the area where he was investigating. I’ll pass it along to Mitchell, but give you the chance to reach the area first.” Duncan paused. “Cooper, I’m asking a lot for something that’s not strictly your responsibility, so if...”

“You lost people the first time round,” Bolan said. “Talbot now, and maybe your agent, Bermann. From what we understand about Hegre, those people have no respect for anyone in their way. They need to be stopped.”

“Use this number if you need to get through to me, Cooper.”

“I’ll let you know when I have something.”

CHAPTER THREE

FBI Agent Sarah Mitchell crossed the parking lot outside the diner, balancing two paper cups of coffee and a couple of sandwiches in her hands. Her partner, Agent Joseph Brewster, saw her and quickly climbed out of the Crown Victoria. He moved around the car to relieve her of the load.

“You always do things the hard way.”

“You noticed.”

“Funny lady.”

They climbed back inside the car, closing the doors against the rising chill.

“This is one cold place,” Brewster said. He glanced across at his partner. “You sure you didn’t specially ask for this assignment?”

Mitchell took her time drinking her coffee before she looked at him.

“Why would I do that, Joe?”

“I can think of one reason. You have a weird sense of humor, and landing me here in the back of beyond would fit that.”

“You think I’d put myself through all this just to get a laugh?”

Brewster placed his coffee in the cup holder and proceeded to unwrap his sandwich. He checked the filling, nodding when he found it was beef.

“If I was playing jokes,” Mitchell said, “would I have brought your favorite kind of sandwich?”

“I guess not.”

They had just completed their meal when Mitchell felt her cell phone vibrate in her pocket. She took it out and checked the caller ID. She was disappointed it wasn’t from Ray Talbot, or his partner Jake Bermann. The call was from SAC Drake Duncan, her FBI superior.

“Sir?”

“You’re not going to like this, Mitchell.”

“Talbot?”

“He’s been found. It’s not good.”

Mitchell touched her partner on the arm.

“I’m putting you on speaker, sir.”

“Talbot has been found,” Duncan repeated for Brewster’s benefit.

“Not alive?”

“No. The body is about thirty miles from your current position in a place called Treebone. Some locals found the body, which had been dumped in a creek.”

“You want us to check it out?”

“Yes. I want an FBI presence in place. I want you to find out what happened. One more thing, Mitchell. Just remember Bermann is still missing too. I’ll get back to you with details.”