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  “You think he’s okay?” Manning asked over the comm set.

  “In his position,” McCarter replied, “I reckon he can be forgiven if he’s late.”

  “Let’s hope that’s all it is,” Encizo murmured.

  McCarter looked up as he heard soft footfalls in the brush just ahead of the Force’s position. He leveled his P90, the suppressed muzzle locking onto the spot.

  The brush parted and a lean figure clad in dark peasant clothing moved cautiously into view. Even under the cap the man wore, his face was recognizable as the one on the ID photo Hiko had showed them.

  It was Kayo Pak.

  In his early forties, he was on the short side. Thick black hair hung from under his cap, reaching his collar. His eyes flicked back and forth, as he scanned the beach and rocks. Pak carried a black handgun in his left hand.

  “Kayo Pak,” McCarter called out.

  The figure turned in his direction.

  “Coyle...Jack Coyle?”

  McCarter rose to his full height and walked in Pak’s direction. He held out his right hand, grasping the Korean’s.

  “There are patrols out,” Pak said. “I had to make a detour.”

  “No need to apologize.”

  The rest of Phoenix Force emerged from cover to group around the Korean. McCarter took out a spare comm set linkup and handed it to Pak.

  “Maybe they’re nervous because of what happened in Hawaii,” James said.

  Pak nodded. “Exactly so. I offered Li Kam a small transceiver unit some time ago, only to be used in strict emergencies. Yesterday she did for the first time. Said Major Choi is agitated because of the accident on the ship. She also said he is desperate to find out how this happened.”

  “You think he might suspect sabotage?”

  “Li believes that to be so.”

  “Then we need to get her out ASAP,” McCarter said. “And you, Kayo. Time to call it a day.”

  Pak nodded. “I would be lying if I said I don’t need a vacation from this place.”

  “Let’s do it, then,” McCarter said. “Transceiver? Bloody hell, that was risky.”

  “Our whole setup is risky. Li has to be so careful in case she is discovered. Yes, it is very risky, but we needed to be able to get in touch.”

  “If everything goes well,” McCarter said, “you’ll be able to close that down for good.”

  “I look forward to that,” Pak said.

  “Kayo, cut the path for us, then. The sooner we get this bloody show on the road, the better I’ll like it.”

  The Korean led the way, McCarter behind him and the rest of Phoenix Force in a line. Encizo brought up the rear, keeping a constant check on their back trail.

  Off the beach they quickly moved into a landscape of gnarled timber and undergrowth, the scattered rocks lining the beach giving way to harsh grass and rutted earth. A steady breeze filtered down through the timber, bringing the threat of rain, and within ten minutes the first drops came. The wind curved in from the north, the increasing shower slanting across the terrain and hitting them head-on. The initial light shower increased quickly. The rain was chilled and showed no sign of letting up, as Pak led Phoenix Force on a northwesterly course.

  The rain impacted against their exposed faces, sharp on bare flesh. If it hadn’t been for the waterproofed outer clothing, they would have been severely tested. Despite that, the rain made for hard going as the ground underfoot quickly turned soft, the soil becoming little more than mud.

  After forty minutes Pak raised a hand to stop them. McCarter closed in behind the man, as the Korean crouched in the cover of thick undergrowth.

  “The road down to the harbor is that way. Through those trees. That’s a couple miles away. If we move parallel, we should see the research unit directly ahead.”

  “How far?” the Briton asked.

  “No more than a mile.”

  McCarter relayed the information to the rest of Phoenix Force. He sent Encizo to run a check on the area and report any unexpected movements. The Cuban simply nodded and withdrew, easing into the undergrowth.

  “Keep eyes open from here on in,” McCarter said to the rest. “Remember what Kayo said about patrols. And don’t forget what I said earlier. If there’s a face-to-face, deal with it.”

  Pak said, “Good advice. Choi’s men will be working on a similar rule. This facility does not appreciate visitors. Because of the Hawaiian strike, Choi will be anxious. If he feels the place has been compromised in any way, he will have given orders to shoot first and worry about the consequences later.”

  Pak’s words were heard by the others.

  At McCarter’s suggestion, each man located the suppressors they carried in their backpacks, threading them on to the barrels of their P90s.

  “We get the message,” Hawkins said.

  “Move on,” McCarter said and tapped Pak on the shoulder. “Onward and upward.”

  Pak wasn’t exactly certain what the words meant, but he decided they meant let’s go, so he pushed forward.

  * * *

  THEIR TARGET LOOMED out of the persistent gloom and falling rain two hundred yards ahead.

  A chain-link enclosure with a steel gate. Inside was a hybrid structure, part stone with added sections created from prefabricated material. There were two watchtowers that held manned machine guns. Each tower had a searchlight capable of traversing fully 360 degrees. They had been built on each side of the entrance gate. At the far side of the enclosure was a cleared area where a pair of MD-500 Defender helicopters stood. A number of military vehicles could also be seen, parked near the main entrance of the two-story central building. To one side was a large fuel-holding tank and a squat generator building. A cell phone tower could be seen at the rear of the building.

  “Li has told me the lower floor is where the soldiers sleep. Choi has his office on the same floor. A cook house is situated at the far side of the building,” Pak said. “All the research is done on the upper floor. That is where Li works alongside Absalom and the rest of the research team.”

  McCarter was studying the layout as Pak gave him the lowdown on the site.

  “All the comforts of home,” he said. “Pretty well self-sufficient.”

  “Done that way so there is little contact with the outside. Given the fact this place is a distance away from anywhere, the isolation works in Pyongyang’s favor. Out of sight, out of mind. Choi can run his operation in safety.”

  McCarter said, “With a bit of luck we can change all that today.” He glanced up at the heavily overcast sky and the increased rainfall. “This keeps up, it should help cover our way in.”

  That was not the way it went.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ABLE TEAM, HAWAII

  Able Team picked up the SUV rental that had been left for them at Hickam Air Force Base as their transport to the hotel where rooms had been reserved for them by Price. Blancanales drove, Lyons at his side, while Schwarz reclined in the rear.

  “Nice,” Blancanales said as he glanced out the window at the sunny Hawaiian scenery. “Maybe we could have Stony Man move here.”

  Behind him Schwarz gave an amused chuckle.

  “What?” Blancanales asked, sensing his partner was about to make some careless remark that would annoy Lyons.

  “This brochure about the hotel. We could have a problem, Gadgets. It lists all the hotel amenities. But right at the bottom it says no pets allowed. I mean, what do we do with Carl?”

  Lyons’s shoulders rose a little as he heard the remark. He didn’t do anything else. He was learning, albeit slowly, to not always react to his partners’ comments, because, if he didn’t, they lost some of the sting.

  “I suppose he could bunk down in the car,” Blancanales suggested. “We could toss him blankets and
a pillow from the window.”

  Unable to resist a comeback, Lyons muttered, “I could suggest something being thrown out the window.”

  “I don’t think we’ll be getting much free time to sample the hotel amenities,” Schwarz said. “We never do.”

  There was an easy silence as Blancanales negotiated the busy road. Honolulu was well known for having a heavy traffic problem. The highway buzzed with vehicles.

  “So this Oscar Kalikani is with the HPD?” Schwarz asked.

  “He’s part of a special security detail team,” Lyons said. “Task Force status. Hal wasn’t all that forthcoming.”

  “Spooks,” Schwarz muttered.

  “Not CIA, I hope,” Blancanales said.

  “We’ll see,” Lyons said.

  Blancanales signaled and turned into the hotel parking area. He found a slot and eased the rental into the space. The cool of the vehicle gave way to the Hawaiian heat as they climbed out. They grabbed their carry bags and crossed to the hotel entrance, went inside and found themselves in the cool again. As they crossed to the reception desk, a tall, lean figure rose from one of the easy chairs in the lounge area and intercepted them.

  Oscar Kalikani was dressed in light-colored pants and a bright Hawaiian print shirt that covered, but did not completely hide, the handgun holstered on his right hip. His black hair was collar length, his light brown skin around his jawline showing a faint stubble. He was a good-looking man. He extended his hand to show the badge he held.

  “Kalikani,” he said.

  Lyons introduced his team, then took the Hawaiian’s hand. Kalikani led them back to where he had been sitting. When Able Team was seated, he waved a server across and ordered cold drinks for them all.

  “You guys made good time,” he said.

  “Uncle Sam Airways,” Blancanales said. “Never late.”

  Kalikani had an easy smile, and he had a casual look that stopped short of his intense blue eyes.

  “We can move when you’re ready,” he said. “Don’t want to sound pushy, but this thing is running hot.”

  “We know about the incident,” Lyons said.

  Their drinks arrived, tall frosted glasses holding chilled fruit juices.

  Blancanales was the first to sample his and made an approving sound. “That is good.”

  “So what are we looking at?” Lyons asked impatiently.

  If Kalikani noticed, he didn’t let it show. “Since I got the call from the mainland, I started digging. I came up with a name known to me, a guy called Tomas Meeker. This haole runs close to the edge. Works both sides of the street, depending who holds the money. He gave me some information on a team working for some pake.”

  Lyons shook his head. “Translate.”

  “Sorry. Pake is Hawaiian for Chinese.”

  “Give us time and we’ll catch on,” Schwarz said. “So any particular Chinese?”

  “Meeker wouldn’t say too much over the phone. He gets a little paranoid. Thinks people listen in to his calls.”

  Schwarz smiled. “These days that isn’t being paranoid.”

  “He wants to meet?” Lyons said.

  “At the Maunakea Market. Across town. You guys ready for a fast tour of the city?”

  “Give me five minutes to check in,” Lyons said.

  Their reservations were on the hotel system. Once they were registered, Able Team left their bags with the desk to be taken to their rooms, then followed Kalikani outside.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Maunakea Market was a noisy kaleidoscope of stalls and people thrust together in a crowded location. If Able Team had not been on duty, they might have allowed themselves to enjoy the surroundings. Despite that, they were unable to avoid the loud vocals.

  “Makes Walmart look positively dreary,” Schwarz muttered, as they stepped inside through the red brick entrance.

  “Is this Meeker reliable?” Blancanales asked.

  “I’ve done business with him before, but the guy operates for money. What can I say?” Kalikani jabbed a finger at the avenue between the stalls and said, “Along here.”

  “It always this busy?” Lyons said. He was uncomfortable in the closed area. The crowded stalls made the narrow walkways seem more closed in. Lyons kept his hand on the Python under his shirt.

  “Today,” Kalikani said, “is a quiet day.” The Hawaiian slipped out his cell and keyed a number. He listened until someone picked up. “Kalikani. I’m at Maunakea Market with our visitors. Heading for a meet with Tomas Meeker. Have a couple units in the area to provide backup if needed.”

  “Are we early, or is your guy late?” Schwarz asked.

  Kalikani made a soft sound in his throat. “I was just starting to wonder myself,” he said. “He’s usually on time. It’s a thing with Meeker. Hates to be... Shit.”

  He snatched at his S&W, lifting it from the hip holster.

  “We’ve been set up...”

  Schwarz saw the armed figures emerging from between stalls ahead of them, weapons already swinging into position as they cleared the avenue. The lead guy was the first to fire, too soon and way off target.

  Schwarz’s hand pulled out from beneath his jacket, clutching his Beretta. He dropped to a semicrouch, holding the autopistol double-handed. His finger eased back on the trigger, and he sent 9 mm slugs at the lead guy. The Able Team shooter laid his first shot into the guy’s throat, tearing out flesh and muscle. Blood spouted as the guy went down, dropping his SMG as he vainly tried to stop the rush of blood.

  Lyons, drawing his loosened Python, turned the big handgun in a sharp arc and triggered two fast shots that targeted a burly guy in a flowered shirt. The heavy Magnum slugs caught the guy in the left side of his chest, traveling through his body. Kicked back by the force of the .357 Magnum slugs, the guy slammed into one of his own, knocking the man off balance. As he stumbled, the second guy pulled the trigger of his SMG and sent a burst that scored the concrete only feet ahead of Kalikani.

  The Hawaiian cop returned fire and put a trio of 9 mm slugs into the guy that took him all the way to the ground. Without pause Kalikani adjusted his aim and put a single round through the guy’s skull, sending a shower of bloody bone fragments into the air.

  Panic had gripped the sellers and buyers in the crowded market. People scattered, some screaming in sheer terror at the sudden eruption of violence. They ran, jostling each other, tripping and falling, slamming into the stalls and spilling the displayed goods to the floor.

  SMGs crackled as the surviving pair of hitters stepped by their fallen buddies and made their try. Blancanales joined the fray, his Beretta firing as he gripped it in both hands and unloaded the magazine in an unending stream of 9 mm fire that targeted the pair. Blancanales kept firing until his slide locked back on an empty breech. The men on the receiving end of his volley never knew what had hit them. Blancanales dropped the empty magazine and slid in a fresh one without pausing for breath.

  The area suddenly became very quiet, the near silence broken only by the groaning of wounded men. Able Team and Kalikani, weapons still held on the hitters, closed in to clear weapons, then check the shot men. Three were already dead. The surviving two were spilling blood across the concrete.

  “I’ll call it in,” Kalikani said. He took out his cell and contacted his department. “This is Kalikani. Shooting at the Maunakea Market. Have patrol cars move in and send medical help. Three for the morgue. Two wounded. Patch me through to Tasker.”

  Captain Rudy Tasker was in charge of the special HPD department where Kalikani was housed.

  “Welcome to Hawaii,” Blancanales said.

  “I thought the traditional Hawaiian welcome was girls in grass skirts and flowers,” Schwarz replied.

  Lyons glanced at them, a taut smile on his face. “You want dancing girls, com
e as a tourist,” he said.

  “That sounds boring,” Blancanales countered.

  Kalikani completed his call and lowered his cell.

  “That was my department boss. He asked if you guys always get this kind of reaction wherever you go.”

  “Funny you should ask that,” Schwarz said.

  “Looks to me that we’ve already upset someone,” Lyons said.

  “Guys,” Kalikani said. “I think we should go and talk with my informant. Tomas Meeker has some explaining to do.”

  * * *

  TOMAS MEEKER WAS in no condition to explain anything. When Able Team and Kalikani arrived at the man’s apartment in a down-market condo, HPD was already there. Kalikani showed his badge and led his guests into the apartment. They were directed to the main bedroom, where Meeker’s body lay on the floor beside the bed.

  He had been butchered. There was no other way to describe his death. The attending coroner had counted over thirty severe, deep cuts to his body; if the shock hadn’t killed him, the massive blood loss would have. The body was soaked, as was the carpet on which the body lay. Blood splashes marked the wall and the bed. Brutal slashes across the back of Meeker’s neck had almost severed his head.

  “Overkill,” Kalikani said.

  “They got their information where the meet was from Meeker,” Lyons said. “And whoever did this wanted us to know they don’t screw around.”

  When Kalikani finished speaking to the cop in charge, he rejoined Able Team.

  “Would you believe no one heard or saw a thing? Whole place is full of deaf, dumb and blind residents.”

  “So how come the police are here?” Blancanales asked.

  “Anonymous call,” Kalikani explained. “Just gave the address.”

  “A trace?” Lyons asked.

  Kalikani shook his head. “We located the source but no good. Came from a pay phone on a city street.”