Deadly Contact Read online

  “Hurry up and close that door,” she said. “I’ll never be warm again.”

  Bolan drove off, working the heavy all-terrain vehicle around until he had it pointed in the direction of Maple Lake.

  “I don’t believe this,” Dukas murmured. “We might actually make it before the sun goes down.”

  “Arriving is the important part,” Bolan said, “not how long it takes.”

  “Head for the south edge of town,” Dukas said. “The general store and post office is at the far side. The sheriff’s office midway along. Do you think we’re going to be there before Billingham’s group?”

  “If they’ve figured out where Tira sent the package, they might already be making a play for it,” Bolan said.

  “I’d hate to lose out now after everything we’ve been through. I wanted to get hold of that package for Tira’s sake. We miss that chance, she died for nothing.”

  “It isn’t over yet,” the Executioner said.

  BOLAN RAN THE HUMVEE OFF the track and parked beneath a dense and heavy mass of thick brush. He drove deep into the center of the thicket, the mass of foliage closing in around the vehicle, hiding it from view. The disturbed snow from the foliage cascaded down over the ATV as he cut the engine and they sat in the silence that descended over them. Falling snow began to cover the tire marks.

  “What? Back on foot? I just got comfortable again,” Dukas said.

  “Only for me,” Bolan replied.

  “I’m not going to like this am I?”

  “I need to do this fast. Don’t take it the wrong way, Erika, but distractions will slow me down. And what I have to do might not sit easy for you.”

  “Fine, go and do whatever you have to do. Just don’t leave me out here too long or I might decide to come charging in to rescue you.”

  He saw the smile on her lips, but there was no way she could hide the concern in her eyes.

  Bolan quietly checked his weapons. He showed Dukas the compact transceiver he had set to a new frequency.

  “Keep it close. If I call you’ll know it’s safe to come in. Otherwise keep out of sight. Stay inside the vehicle, but keep alert. If you figure they might get close enough to spot you, get out and bury yourself somewhere until any threats move on. I won’t pretend this isn’t a risky time, but we’ve come through this far. Do you trust me?”

  “Over the past couple of days haven’t you shown me a good time?” she said.

  Making light of the situation was her way of covering how she felt. Bolan understood that and he admired her for it.

  “You are one hell of a lady, Dukas.”

  He moved to leave and she reached out to stop him, leaning over to kiss him. “Damn you, Cooper, don’t you forget to come back in one piece.”

  “You can count on that,” he said brusquely, and he was gone, a brief flurry of falling snow drifting into the Humvee as he left the vehicle.

  The heavy brush settled back in place as he drifted out of her sight, and she was alone, entombed in the white cocoon of snow and foliage and surrounded by utter silence. She was confident he would be fine. He would succeed and come back for her. Really alone for the first time she felt the breathless rush of events crowd her in a instant. She felt tears rise, overcome by the emotions she had been bottling up. She allowed it to happen, not out of pity for herself but because someone had to weep for those who had already paid the price of other men’s brutality.

  THE EXECUTIONER ALMOST WALKED into the first of the perimeter guards. The other man was just as surprised, and it came down to who recovered faster.

  The falling snow and the cathedral silence that blanketed the area had reduced footfalls to nothing. Bolan, acknowledging to a dragging weariness, had sensed the guard’s presence a scant second before he saw the guy.

  They moved together, each hoping to gain the advantage in that precious sliver of time.

  The guard chose to unlimber his M-16, wasting his opportunity, and Bolan’s own move countered it in an instant. His own weapon was in his left hand, leaving the right free. Bolan made a solid fist and drove it into the guard’s face, slamming the man backward, his nose flattened and gushing blood. He swung again, this time a back fist that crunched against the jaw, smashing it from its setting and loosening a number of teeth. He followed through with another blow that snapped the man’s head back and drove him against the trunk of a tree. The dazed guard barely registered the impact when Bolan drove the heel of his hand below his jaw and rocked his head back into the solid trunk. As the guard went down, Bolan bent over him, removed all his weapons and threw them into the surrounding foliage.

  So what were you watching over, buddy? he wondered.

  Bolan edged forward cautiously. One guard could mean more. He was back on full alert, the adrenaline surge snapping him out of his lethargy. His diligence was rewarded when he saw the trees thinning out to reveal a large natural clearing—and the dark bulk of a helicopter. Bolan recognized the configuration. He also spotted the bullet holes in the fuselage and canopy, and the Granger Industries logo.

  As he walked into the clearing, someone shouted a warning.

  The rattle of autofire shattered the forest calm. Then shouted orders. Then anger. Not a little panic. Bolan stalked the clearing, his MP-5 dealing out cleansing fire. He ignored any considerations of personal safety. He knew these men, paid by those higher up, were willing to deal out suffering and death so that the important men could sleep soundly in their beds. He was there to ensure the sleep they desired would be filled with nightmares. Bolan didn’t bring absolution. He delivered retribution.

  Granger, Billingham and Radin had rolled the dice—now they were about to reap the rewards.

  15

  “Your luck’s changing, Mr. Pavlic.”

  Pavlic followed the man’s gaze. Beyond the window the snowed in landscape seemed less threatening than it had the previous day. The snow was still swirling across the lodge’s parking lot, but it was nowhere near as heavy as before.

  “Yes, it does appear so. I think I should complete my business and return to Denver.”

  “You finish your coffee and I’ll get your bill ready.”

  “Thank you. Oh, when does the post office open? I should have a package waiting there for me. My company sent it on ahead for me a few days ago.”

  “General store opens at nine this time of year, so it’ll be up for business by the time you make it into town.”

  Pavlic nodded. He topped up his coffee and considered what he would do once he had the disk back in his possession. The important thing was to lose himself somewhere within the vast American continent while he made definite plans for the future.

  A return to his own country was out of the question. His former colleagues were out to eliminate him. He was going to have to make himself an exile, but with the money he had salted away at least he’d be comfortable.

  Pavlic regretted he had no weapon to protect himself. His rapid departure from Sarajevo had not allowed him the opportunity to arrange anything. His commercial flights had meant there had been no way to carry a gun even if he’d had one. This was his first visit to Colorado, so there were no contacts he could turn to. When he considered the matter, he realized that unlike the others he had never needed to arm himself. The circles they ran in carried risks, and special work done for them over the years called for contacts who could acquire weapons if and when required. Compared to them, he was an innocent abroad.

  Pavlic had not forgotten the long reach of his ex-partners. For all he knew they could have discovered his destination and might already be on their way to interrupt him. They might already be waiting for him in Maple Lake.

  He drove out of the parking lot and took the road to Maple Lake. The snow was pristinely white and smooth, the ever-present wind skating frozen particles across it like sand in a desert.

  He drove slowly, aware that the surface beneath his wheels had been hard frozen during the night. He reached the flat, straight run that led in toward the
main street and had yet to see any other vehicles, or people. He drove by a few timber houses, then a gas station. There was a gap and then he saw the building that bore the sign Maple Lake General Store.

  Pavlic eased off the gas pedal and gently touched the brake pedal, easing the SUV to a stop alongside the store. He could see movement inside. He climbed out of the vehicle, feeling the chill bite of the wind and the sting of frozen snow particles against his cheek.

  THE TOTAL WAS FIVE DEAD and one wounded.

  Bolan found plastic cuffs among the blood-spattered equipment inside the chopper. He secured the wounded mercenary to a fixed support and let the man think about his position for a while.

  In the meantime Bolan checked out the Sikorsky’s communication setup and it was as up-to-date as anything he’d seen. With one eye on the prisoner Bolan worked the radio, adjusting the digital settings to the Stony Man frequency. He put out a call and waited while the satellite feed and various cutouts connected him with the Farm.

  “Striker, what the hell has been going on?” Hal Brognola asked.

  “You got the background?”

  “Damn it, yes, but we’ve been worried about the pair of you. How’s Erika?”

  “We’re fine.”

  “That storm still got you bottled in?”

  “Not just the storm. We have some hostiles roaming the woods. Courtesy of Ramsey Granger.”

  “You found this package yet?”

  “No. There’ve been some distractions along the way and the game isn’t over yet. I don’t anticipate getting reinforcements anytime soon.”

  “Don’t be too sure about that. Jack is on the way. I managed to fix an Air Force ride for him to a base in Colorado. Shouldn”t be too much of a jump from there to your mountain retreat.”

  “I’m not holding my breath. Weather’s still undecided up here,” Bolan said.

  “Looks like a real can of worms was opened by this Lec Pavlic. He’s caused one hell of a panic. Now we have the Sarajevo cops begging for information. Once Kurtzman started digging bells and whistles started going off over there. When this breaks, you’ll be able to monitor the reaction on the Richter scale. Brognola filled Bolan in on Kurtzman’s findings.”

  “Hal, don’t write these people off that easy. Especially Granger. The man has connections in very high places. The pull he has within the Defense Department will give him heavy protection,” Bolan said.

  “If what we suspect is true, it’s not going to be easy sailing for these people.”

  “Word of mouth isn’t going to swing it, Hal. We have to have solid evidence. Without it Granger’s lawyers walk him free. We both know that.”

  The man from Justice sighed.

  “I’m going for that package, Hal. If what we believe is true then we owe it to those people who died. And to Erika’s friend, Tira. She had nothing to do with any of this but they killed her like she was nothing. And they threatened Erika’s life too.”

  “Stay safe, Striker. We want you both back alive and well,” Brognola said.

  “Tell Jack to check south of Maple Lake for Bud Casper. He saved us. Gave us the chance to make a break. He went down fighting.”

  Bolan broke the connection.

  He went back to where his prisoner sat glowering. The man’s wounded left arm was still bleeding, so Bolan located a first-aid kit and tended to it. The man protested but one look at Bolan’s grim face shut him up.

  “So where’s the big man himself?” Bolan asked.

  “Don’t know what you mean.”

  “Granger must be paying you well. Or is there a nondisclosure clause in your contract?”

  “You always talk in fucking riddles?” the man said.

  “The chopper belongs to Granger Industries. It’s written on the side. Or do I guess you just picked it up at a Hertz rental?”

  “You realize who you’re bucking here?”

  “Some poorly trained, overpaid help Granger picked up on the cheap.”

  “The hell with you. All you got is lucky,” the prisoner said.

  The man fell silent, defiantly staring over Bolan’s shoulder.

  Bolan checked his weapons. There was an ample supply of extra ordnance inside the chopper. He bulked up on ammunition for his MP-5. The M-16 A-3s that seemed to be the favored weapon of the opposition were available, secured in racks. Bolan found a couple fitted with M-203 grenade launchers. He chose one and slung a bandolier holding loads for the weapon around his neck, adding magazines for the rifle itself. With his weapons locked and loaded Bolan turned to leave.

  “You going to fight a war, or something?” the prisoner asked with a sneer.

  “Or something,” the Executioner said, then stepped out of the helicopter and was swallowed by the falling snow.

  THE SHERIFF OF MAPLE LAKE WAS embarrassed and angry. He had walked into his own department, along with one of his deputies and the town doctor, to find themselves under the guns of hooded strangers who had taken over the building.

  Sheriff Garrett’s brusque demand to be told what was going on earned him a bruised jaw from one of the armed invaders.

  “That,” Jatko said, “is what is going on, Sheriff. Now sit the fuck down and stay quiet.”

  Moving to the far side of the large office Jatko took out his transceiver, contacting Billingham. “We have the local cops under our control. And the doctor,” he said.

  “There shouldn’t be much resistance from anyone else. According to our information, there are only a few local residents left in the town. Leave the sheriff’s department guarded and go find that store where the post office is located. Maric, get that damned package so we can leave this place,” Billingham said.

  “You heard from Granger?”

  “Only that his people have made contact with our fugitives. One down, but the big man and that Dukas woman are still loose.”

  “Well, let him chase them around the damned mountains. Now we have the town shut down we can collect the package,” Jatko said.

  “Knowing Ramsey, he’ll want to be around when the package surfaces too.”

  “If I didn’t know you better, Thorne, I’d have to say there’s a trace of mistrust in your voice.”

  Billingham’s hesitation spoke volumes. A mistrustful individual himself, Jatko had an insight into Billingham’s train of thought. “You feel he might want to snatch the package for himself? Is that it?”

  “Why would he, Maric?” Billingham asked, planting the seed in Jatko’s mind. “What would it gain him?”

  Jatko laughed.

  “You know what it would give him, Thorne. Total control over the whole group. Every one of us. He could dangle that information over our heads so we dance to his tune whenever he wants. Of course, we are only speculating. Granger is a friend. He would never turn against us.”

  “Maric, get to that package now,” Billingham shouted.

  MACK BOLAN WATCHED THE ARRIVAL of the town sheriff, his deputy and a civilian who carried what looked like a medical bag. He studied the stone-and-timber building with its wide front window that had a grille of fine metal mesh on the inside. There was a tall radio mast rising above the roofline. There were three SUVs parked out front, black and white, bearing the logo of the Maple Lake Sheriff’s Department. When Bolan edged around the corner of the deserted building that was providing his cover, he spotted a civilian Humvee.

  Making a wide loop he crossed the street and came in against the end wall of the building. Edging around the corner, Bolan crept to where he could peer in through the front window.

  Maple Lake’s law enforcement and the civilian were being held at gunpoint by five armed men. One of the deputies, a young woman, had bloodstains down the front of her tan shirt. A male deputy had a head wound. Bolan pulled back, crouching beside the wall. He was considering his options when he heard the front door open and he saw three of the men leave the building, weapons clearly visible. One of them was speaking into a transceiver. They cleared the building and walked along the s
treet, making slow progress through the drifts and the prevailing wind. Bolan watched them go, waiting until they were lost in the swirling snowfall.

  He moved across the parking area until he was at the far side, closer to the main door. Taking the M-16 Bolan loaded an HEDP M-433 grenade into the M-203 launcher. He took aim at the furthest of the patrol vehicles and hit the lower rear with the grenade. The M-433 round ripped into the vehicle with ease. The gas tank blew, throwing a ball of flame into the air. Bolan ducked low as debris was hurled across the parking lot, bouncing and clattering as it landed. Tendrils of flaming gasoline spewed in all directions.

  The expected reaction occurred quickly. The office’s front doors opened and one of the remaining pair of masked men stood framed in the opening, staring at the blazing wreck. He took a hesitant step forward, checking the immediate area, and reached for the transceiver clipped to his belt.

  Bolan hit him with an autoburst from the M-16, the impact spinning the guy and bouncing him off the door frame as he went down. The Executioner stepped over the body and went inside, his eyes scanning for the other masked intruder. He saw the dark bulk as the man rushed forward, his rifle raised and belching rounds. The stream of 5.56 mm slugs chewed plaster from the wall above Bolan’s head as he dropped to a crouch, angling his own weapon and cutting the shooting off at waist level. The raider gasped, twisting in agony as the slugs chewed into his torso. Bolan hit him a second time, jacking out another burst that dropped the man to the floor in a bloody heap, his rifle clattering across the smooth wood floor.

  Bolan turned and took hold of the first raider, dragging him inside so he could close and secure the doors.

  “Sheriff?”

  “That’s me,” Garrett snapped. “Now you want to tell me what the hell is going on? And who you are?”

  “Matt Cooper, Justice Department. No time to go into full details now, Sheriff. The main problem you have are the armed men running loose in your town and the surrounding area. I suggest you arm your people, because the men who left are going to be back fast.”