Viral Siege

by Don Pendleton

  “As long as Rackham is alive, he’ll find out.”

  Bolan moved closer to the bed. “Only if he stays alive, which is unlikely,” he said, so quietly Travis failed to pick up his words.

  Callum met Bolan’s unflinching stare. He understood what the big man had said. The inference was clear.

  The man was openly promising Rackham wouldn’t walk away when it was all over.

  “I want immunity from prosecution,” Callum demanded. “I give you Rackham, I walk free.”

  Bolan glanced at Travis and saw the FBI agent turn aside and cross the room, taking out his cell phone. He spoke into it quietly for a few moments. Callum was watching him with a look of desperation in his eyes; he understood his position and was playing the only card he had left.

  Travis ended his call. He dropped his cell phone back in his pocket and faced Callum. “This is the deal. You give us Rackham. Tell us where we can find him. If it works out and we take him down, you go free. No result, no deal.”

  “That’s what I call a crap hand,” Callum said bitterly.

  “Callum, it’s more than you deserve,” Bolan said. “Figure yourself lucky.”

  “You call this lucky?”

  Bolan’s smile was ice-cold. “Oh, yes. Lucky because you’re making your deal with the FBI and not me.”

  “You hear what he said?” Callum yelled. “That son of a bitch will kill me if he gets the chance.”

  “Then let’s talk before I walk out of here and give him the opportunity,” Travis said.

  Callum saw he was getting no consideration from the FBI agent. His options were limited as to be nonexistent. If he was to come through this with a chance, however slim, he was going to need to cooperate.

  “Rackham will be at the backup location. Up near the Canadian border. That’s where he’ll have fixed the meet with his Korean clients.”

  “You know where it is?” Travis asked.

  “I’ve been there once. I can give you its location.”

  Callum indicated his belongings in a plastic bag on the locker next to his bed. “My cell. The GPS coordinates are logged in.”

  Riba took the bag and unsealed it. He took out the cell phone and switched it on. He handed it to Callum and stood close to the bed as the man scrolled through the menu. Callum handed the cell phone back to Riba.

  “GPS coordinates,” the P.I. said. “Looks like we’re in business.” He handed the device to Bolan.

  “Anything we need to know?” Bolan asked Callum.

  “Only that there’s a small airstrip near the house. That’s all I got.”

  “Travis, you’d better call Duncan,” Bolan said. “He’s short on additional backup. Tell him we’re heading for the location. I promised him I wouldn’t let Rackham slip away. I’ll keep that promise. And I can move faster without all the official maneuvering you people have to go through.”

  Travis followed Bolan and Riba as they left the room.

  “Cooper, I need that location in case we can get a team on the move.”

  Bolan showed him the cell phone and Travis copied down the coordinates.

  “Rackham might have backup with him,” the FBI agent said. “Shouldn’t you wait for reinforcements?”

  “Rackham isn’t going to stay around once he does his deal. We may already be running late.”

  Travis watched Bolan and Riba walk away. He thought about the virus and the harm it could do if it was released.

  “Then let’s hope you’re not too late,” he said.

  Chapter 18

  “We’re are cutting this close,” Riba said. “Awful close, partner.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “When this is done, you need big R & R. Time to get your head clear.”

  “Crazy as it sounds, that’s already happening.”

  “Memories?”

  “Some. Coming in from the past. Names. Places. Still hazy but a damn sight better than having no recollection.”

  “Nothing recent?”

  “Fragments. Brognola a little more. A guy called Grimaldi. He’s a pilot. We go back a long way.”

  “What about the headaches?”

  “Eased some.”

  Bolan’s cell phone rang. It was Duncan.

  “Just an update,” the FBI SAC said. “The facility is now in complete lockdown. Our good Dr. Tasker has isolated the lab and Pembury has been stabilized.”

  “Is he going to survive?”

  “The prognosis is hopeful.”

  “What about his wife?”

  “We have an operation in progress to rescue her,” Duncan said. “Pembury has been cooperating as much as he’s able. Travis tells me you’re en route to Rackham’s location. I’ve managed to get satellite surveillance on those coordinates. We have a real-time image that I’m looking at. It shows the building, which appears to be a large lodge. There are vehicles parked out front, and an airstrip to the rear shows a helicopter landed no more than fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Can you run a check on the registration numbers? It could help.”

  “I’m attempting that as we speak. No luck at the moment. The satellite can’t get a decent angle on the fuselage. We’ll keep trying.”

  “We need another forty minutes to reach the place,” Bolan said, checking the navigation unit where they had tapped in the GPS coordinates. “If that bird leaves before we get there, you’ll need to track and intercept when it lands, or before.”

  “Will do. Let’s hope you can get there first. There’s no way I want any local interference at this stage, but if we see the need I might have to call in the local law. If they’re seen, Rackham might make a reckless move. I don’t want that virus being used as an offensive weapon to save his own ass. Rackham has shown what a heartless bastard he is. There’s no telling what he might do if he’s cornered.”

  “Rackham won’t quit without a fight.”

  The FBI agent sighed. “This gets better every time I turn around.”

  “You make it your priority to stop that helicopter if it gets off the ground. Call in the Air Force to burn it out of the sky if it does.”

  “Hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “Hard choices, Duncan. They come with the territory.”

  “Thanks for reminding me, Cooper.”

  “Keep us updated,” Bolan said. He ended the call and contacted Brognola.

  “How’s it going, Striker?”

  Bolan gave him an update on the situation. “If we can reach Rackham before his buyer takes off, we can end it fast. Isolate the virus and wait for the CDC to show up.”

  “We homed in on this Greg Rackham. Former special ops. The guy branched out into private security when his time was up. He ran his own operation for a few years, recruiting some old military buddies. He provided personal protection. Worked off the books for a number of dubious people. Then his operations kind of went dark for a year. It appears he linked up with some other group we can’t get much information on. Our checks into his current associations keep getting blocked. At a guess I’d have to say Rackham has some powerful backers who don’t welcome being investigated.”

  “Agency connections? OrgCrime?”

  “Hard getting any definite line on them at the moment, but we’ll keep looking.”

  “That won’t sit well with Bear. He doesn’t like striking out,” Bolan said. He realized then what he had said. “That came out of nowhere.”

  “You remember him?”

  “In a wheelchair. Top man running intelligence gathering.”

  “Well, he’ll love you for giving him that title,” Brognola said.

  He didn’t press Bolan for any more information. He was just pleased the guy was starting to remember things.

  “Dunca
n has Rackham’s location under satellite surveillance. I suggested he call in Air Force help if that chopper does take off before we show.”

  “Good call. How’s Riba doing?”

  “Right now he’s making a fair chauffeur. I might keep him on after this.”

  “Any more talk like that and I’ll make you get out and walk,” Riba said.

  The road ahead began to wind through densely timbered terrain. The ranked trees closed in on them. The sky to the north was thickly clouded, but the rain held off for the moment.

  Bolan used the time to relax, pleased that the turbulence in his skull had subsided to a level he could tolerate. He left Riba to navigate.

  He watched the road. The image was soothing and Bolan allowed his gaze to wander, the unwinding scenery lulling him. With all that had been happening over the past few days, these moments of relative calm were welcome. He let it happen. When they reached their destination it would all change.

  Greg Rackham would resist. That was a sure thing. The man was dedicated to his cause, whatever lay behind it. He would utilize his people, and there would be no hesitation if it came to killing.

  * * *

  LISE DELAWARE MADE CERTAIN she was alone before she made the call on her cell phone. She listened to the number ring. The distant phone was picked up. No one spoke until Delaware identified herself.

  “I hope this is better news than previously,” a man’s voice said.

  “We’re within a short time of completing the deal,” Delaware reported. “Rackham is with the Koreans now. They’re negotiating terms. I believe he’ll make a good deal.”

  “He needs to, following the disasters of the past few days. We haven’t been impressed by his handling of matters. Mistakes like the ones we have seen can severely affect our reputation.”

  “Rackham is well aware of his failings. But if he completes the deal, I think he’ll have gone a long way to regain our favor.”

  “The matter rests with you, Lise. Any final decisions you make will be accepted.”

  “Good to hear.”

  “What about the Korean who broke up the first deal?”

  “A ringer. It looks like he removed the genuine North Korean operative and took his place. His game might have worked if this Cooper guy hadn’t stepped in and blown the whole thing apart.”

  “Who is this man, Lise? From what you’ve been reporting he’s caused some problems for you all.”

  “There’s no denying that. The man has proved to be a damned nuisance. And hard to remove. I’ve had our people running checks on him from every direction. We aren’t having any luck. Every lead we follow comes to a dead stop. No affiliations with any known agencies. He comes and goes like a damned shadow. I’d be lying if I said it was going to be easy dealing with him. The man is good. I need a few like him on our payroll.”

  “Keep trying. You have me intrigued now. A man like this could prove a real problem to us. If he is as skilled as you say, then we need to contain him if we can. When this Korean deal is completed, you have our permission to look into this man’s background. Do what you have to.”

  “And Rackham?”

  “His future is in the balance. Let’s see how he handles the rest of the deal before we make any final decisions. I understand you have feelings for him, Lise, but his recent performance leaves a lot to desire.”

  “I understand. Let me assess the situation. I’ll come back to you.”

  Delaware broke the connection. She stood at the window and stared out across the rain-swept grounds surrounding the house.

  Her curiosity had been roused by Cooper. He was skilled at what he did. She knew what had happened to him recently, yet he still had managed to overcome everything thrown his way. Hurt both physically and mentally, he had kept pursuing his goals. His persistence got to her, and she found she was attracted to the man. He made Greg Rackham look like an underachiever. Taking Cooper on would be a challenge she could look forward to. If they both survived the current clash, Lise Delaware would anticipate future involvement with the man, in whatever form it took.

  Chapter 19

  Riba pulled into a stand of trees and cut the engine. The navigation system had brought them to within a half mile of the location. They had decided to walk in the final stretch in case Rackham had posted sentries.

  They made their final weapon checks and left the SUV behind as they moved into the cover of the trees and undergrowth.

  The ground was reasonably level underfoot. The thick carpet of the forest floor was still sodden from the falling rain, and they made no sound as they approached the distant lodge. Bolan let Riba take point. The man was at home in a situation like this. His senses allowed him to assess what lay around them. Bolan realized the advantages of having a full-blooded Apache as a partner at this particular moment.

  Closer in, Riba held up a hand, gesturing for Bolan to take cover.

  He had spotted movement ahead.

  A single sentry carried an SMG. The guy was scanning the area, but he lacked the skill that would make him a threat to Riba.

  Laying down his own weapon, Riba drew his knife and moved forward silently, slipping out of sight through the undergrowth. Bolan lost sight of his partner. He spotted the sentry, staring about him, then glimpsed a dark shape rising behind the man. There was a brief flurry of movement with very little sound. The sentry went down. Moments later Riba came into view, gesturing for Bolan to join him.

  The soldier retrieved his partner’s weapon, handing it to the man when he reached him.

  “These idiots almost make it too damned easy,” Riba said.

  “There could be others.”

  “Over on the far side where the landing strip is. There’s likely to be somebody there.”

  “I’ll handle the lodge,” Bolan said. “How about you go and make sure that chopper can’t take off.”

  “Suits me.”

  “Could be more than one back there. Sentries. Maybe the plane’s crew. You okay with that?” Bolan asked his partner.

  “If I get to shoot things up,” Riba said, “how would I not be okay?”

  Bolan smiled, said, “As soon as you hear firing, it’s your signal to go. That chopper doesn’t leave the ground.”

  Riba nodded and loped off into the undergrowth, making a run for the landing strip and the waiting helicopter.

  The moment the man was out of sight, Bolan started for the house. Rackham was inside, cutting his deal. The moment an agreement was reached, the Koreans would be leaving, along with their purchase.

  Mack Bolan was going to cancel the deal and take down those involved. If he achieved nothing else this day, Greg Rackham wasn’t going to hand over the virus. The man’s intention was clear. He would sell the vials containing the deadly virus to his buyer and walk away with a fortune for his organization. Wholesale slaughter could ensue. There would be suffering and death for thousands. A country plunged into horror as the effects of the virulent plague ravaged it. Bolan wouldn’t let that happen.

  Skirting the shrubbery, the soldier crouched, scanning the way ahead. The parked vehicles offered him cover for the next stage of his assault. The vehicles were the final obstacle before he reached the main entrance. Bolan checked his position and the presence of exterior guards.

  Three of them stood around the parked cars. They were all armed. Two had P90s. The third was the only one who appeared to be alert. Bolan knew that would make no difference. Sentences had already been passed. The Executioner was here to carry them out.

  He ran a final check, making certain his own weapon was ready, then eased around the rear of the closest SUV. Bolan raised himself from cover long enough to shoulder the P90. His finger stroked the trigger, sending a burst of 5.7 mm slugs into the back of his target’s skull, the impacts driving the guy’s head forward. Bl
ood and bone erupted from the wounds. Even as the guy started to drop, Bolan swung the P90 in a short arc, firing on the move. Hot slugs cored into the other two guards as they reached for their weapons. They both took chest shots, bodies twisting as they were hit.

  Bolan broke cover, making for the front of the sprawling building. He flattened against the wall to the left of the wide entrance as an eruption of raised voices reached him. A pair of armed men spilled out of the doorway, saw the downed trio of sentries and hauled themselves to a stop. Bolan caught them in his sights and laid devastating bursts into their exposed bodies, driving them to the ground with misty spurts of blood jetting from their chests.

  Turning, Bolan went in through the doorway, emerging in the wide entrance hall. He swung the P90 left and right, searching for targets. As raised voices sounded from his far left, Bolan heard the beat of footsteps.

  The armed men who burst into sight were Asian. They were yelling wildly, using the force of their voices as intimidating threats. The sounds didn’t disturb Bolan. He was more concerned with the bulky SMGs the gunners wielded.

  One opened up, the heavy clatter of noise drowning out the yells of the men. Slugs peppered the wall and floor, chips of plaster erupting into the air and showering Bolan.

  The Executioner had already dropped to the floor, rolling to one side. He turned on his stomach, thrusting the P90 into position. He scythed the weapon in a deadly sweep, the 5.7 mm slugs cutting into limbs and lower torsos. Blood spurted as the projectiles cut through flesh and bone, dropping the men to the floor. Bolan pushed upright, moving forward, and delivered head shots that stilled the writhing figures.

  He walked on, seeking his prime targets.

  The buyers.

  The backup.

  And Greg Rackham.

  Chapter 20

  Prior to Bolan breaching the house, Riba had reached his target, working his way in a half circle until he was concealed by the bulk of a maintenance hut.

  A Bell 429 helicopter stood on the strip, rotors turning over on idle. The passenger-side hatch was open, and a pair of armed Koreans were positioned at the access door, on standby.