Silent Threat

by Don Pendleton

  "Then we're done here," Bolan said.

  "Wait, American," Bashir said. "You like money, yes? I have much money. Let me go, allow me to leave, and I will see that you are richly rewarded."

  "I don't think so," Bolan said. He watched Bashir intently, prepared for any sudden move.

  "A million dollars," Bashir said. "Perhaps in euros? Name your price, American."

  "Some things," Bolan said, "can't be bought."

  "No," Bashir said. "Perhaps... not!" He whipped his wrist upward, and a small pocket automatic pistol fell from his sleeve onto the carpet. Before he could scoop it up, Bolan put a .44 Magnum slug through the terrorist's brain.

  The shot echoed through the room.

  Bolan bent and picked up the small .25-caliber pistol. A search of Bashir's body revealed a thick wad of euros in a money clip, an expensive satellite phone and the leather holster on his forearm. Not quite a superspy gadget, and not all that practical, but still cunning and dangerous.

  He took the steps upstairs cautiously, mindful of hidden enemies. There were no other men alive in the stone-fronted dwelling. He found two rooms upstairs, each full of canisters and crates. The nerve gas and assorted other nasty chemical weapons were there, all right. Bolan pulled out his secure phone.

  "Price," Stony Man's mission controller answered in due course.

  "Striker," Bolan said. "Tell Hal I have some good news. I'm standing in a room full of chemical weapons."

  "That's good news?" Aaron "the Bear" Kurtzman's voice joined the call.

  "It is now," Bolan said, "because I need you to send a team we can trust to package them up and get them out of here." He recited the address.

  "I have some local people we can use," Price said. "I'll get them scrambled right away. What about you?"

  "Lots to do," Bolan said.

  "Be careful, big guy."

  "Always."

  Bolan cut the connection. He took one last look around the room full of lethal cargo. A lot of very bad people had died so that he could stand in this spot.

  He had a feeling there would be many more before the mission was over.

  15

  David Schucker sat at the head of the long, broad conference table. This room in the headquarters of the Security Consortium was among its most ostentatious. A giant plasma screen, used for Internet conferencing, dominated one wall. The high-backed rolling chairs set around the long table were among the most expensive available, each upholstered in fine leather. On the burnished table, crystal decanters of ice water waited with expensive tumblers. At each place setting, a formal written proposal waited. Each man seated at the table was a member of the board of directors of the Consortium. They met only rarely, and had never before met on such short notice. This day, however, wasn't an ordinary day.

  Schucker cleared his throat. He pressed a button on the remote control before him. The lights in the conference room dimmed. The plasma screen flared to life with a prepackaged video presentation. There was no sound; the charts, graphs and text of his proposal flashed silently on the screen as Schucker stood in the darkened room.

  "Ladies and gentlemen of the board," he said in German. "Good morning. I apologize for the early hour, and I thank you for meeting with me on this urgent matter. I will be brief so as to occupy as little of your precious time as possible."

  There were murmurs of assent from among the board members.

  "The Security Consortium," Schucker said, orating now, playing to his audience. This was one of his skills, and one of the reasons he had been so comfortable during his tenure in charge of the company's varied operations. "A vertically integrated operation that is built on acquisition. To profit, we must grow. To grow, we must expand. To expand, we must acquire. All of you are well aware of the unconventional means whereby we accomplish this as efficiently and totally as possible."

  Again, there were murmurs of assent.

  "Now," Schucker went on, "the time has come for certain changes in our operation. The Consortium grew, as you well know, from the investment expertise of one man. That man, known as Dumar Eon, is also the head of an organization called Iron Thunder. In its earlier days, Iron Thunder was the means through which various difficult acquisitions were facilitated. Over the years, as the Consortium has grown, and as it has grown more complex, our own professional security personnel have supplanted Iron Thunder's members."

  There was some uncomfortable fidgeting among the board. They knew what he was talking about, and the subject had never been a popular one. They looked the other way because the Consortium had made them — or kept them — wealthy. The board members didn't like confronting the issue directly.

  "The simple fact," Schucker said, "is that Iron Thunder has become a distinct liability. Though once tolerated, it can no longer be allowed to continue operating as part of this organization. We must divorce ourselves from Dumar Eon and his group. We have no choice."

  "But," one of the board members said, "Dumar Eon owns this company."

  "No," Schucker said, "he does not. No one man owns the Consortium, in fact. It is specifically designed to operate independently of any one man, or of any ten men. Or women," he added. "The fact is, the Consortium has continued as smoothly as it has because I have seen to its mechanics. You know me. You know my record. You know that I am reliable. I am no wild-eyed ideologue..." Schucker gestured toward himself before spreading his hands to take in the board "...and you are not mindless followers. You are businesspeople, and what I recommend is nothing more than a business proposition."

  At the back of the darkened conference room, the door opened and closed. Schucker suppressed his irritation at this straggling board member's late entrance. He didn't wish to repeat his little speech, but he might have to. He needed the support of every board member he could persuade, in order to forestall any future difficulties. He was in this for the long term, after all.

  "Iron Thunder and Dumar Eon are diseased limbs," Schucker said grandly, "who must be cut from the tree lest they infect the rest of us and endanger our healthy growth. I have already taken steps to see that this occurs."

  "You've initiated a war, is what you've done," another board member observed.

  "Yes, I'm aware of the news reports of last night's terrorist attack," Schucker said. "For that is what we are calling it — an act of terrorism by the dangerous religious cult Iron Thunder, which has no ties to any known or legitimate entity and whose operations our own security people — hired as contractors and consultants to our local law-enforcement agencies — sacrificed their lives to interdict. It's playing well and our hired help among the national news media are doing their best to keep it that way. Ladies and gentlemen, there is no need to fear."

  "What, then?" asked the board member who had spoken first.

  "Why, we move forward," Schucker said. "We move forward into a world marked by our Consortium's renewed dedication to business ventures that are in our best interests, with none of these schemes or crazy ideas cooked up by the old guard. I cannot promise that divesting ourselves of Dumar Eon and Iron Thunder will be quick or easy, but it is possible. I guarantee that. I will see to it. I am asking simply that you bear with me, and that you grant me your consent to proceed in the manner I see fit. To date I have taken those measures deemed necessary by me, measures within my purview as head of operations. I am asking simply that you continue to support me as the need for decisive action grows greater."

  In the back of the room, the late board member began to clap slowly. "Oh," he said, "that was stirring. Bravo, Herr Schucker. Bravo."

  "Oh, my God," Schucker said.

  Dumar Eon walked deliberately to the bank of light switches and turned them on. The board members blinked at the sudden brightness. When they realized what was happening, they, too, looked stricken.

  "Dumar... I..." Schucker paused.

  "You have a gift for public speaking," Eon said. "Of course, I knew that. I would not have hired you otherwise. But I must admit I underestimated you
."

  "Dumar, please, you don't understand."

  "Don't ruin it now, David," Eon said. "Please. Have some dignity." He stalked down the length of the conference table, enjoying the waves of fear that washed over him from the assembled board members. "Oh, yes," he said. "I know everything. I will admit I was a bit slow to suspect your ambitions went so far as usurping me." He laughed. "But did you really think I would not put in place certain safeguards? How many of my people did you think your security men could kill before word got back to me? Then of course there was poor Ziegler. He willingly gave himself to us, and then he was only too happy to betray both Interpol and you. Thanks to him, I knew your machinations for what they were. When you mounted your attacks last night, there was no more uncertainty. I knew you for the assassin of kings you hope to be."

  "Is that what you are, Dumar?" Schucker said. "Or should I say Helmut Schribner?"

  "I don't like that name," Eon said. His voice held a note of warning.

  "Oh, come on, Helmut," Schucker said. He was sick and tired of the man's bravado. Did he really think he could just waltz in here and put Schucker on the defensive? David Schucker, who had so much more training, so much more knowledge, so many more resources? David Schucker, who would lead this company into the future? David Schucker, who had been planning for month after month the means, the methodology and the master plan whereby he would excise Iron Thunder and its maniacal leader? No, Schucker had had quite enough. "You're out of your league, Helmut. You're going nowhere fast. Get out of here. Get out of here while I will still allow it, or I'll have security dump your body in the river. What do you think of that, Helmut? I've known for years. Did you think you could keep any of your petty secrets from me?"

  The cold rage in Dumar Eon's eyes was terrifying to behold. Schucker realized, too late, that he'd crossed over some unforgivable point of no return. "I told you not to call me that," Eon said flatly. "And I think it is time that certain things were corrected."

  At some signal from Eon — perhaps he was wearing a wire to which his people were listening — the door to the conference room opened again. Several figures filed in. Schucker recognized them from the looks of utter devotion in their eyes as they gazed at Dumar Eon. These were Iron Thunder members.

  Two men with H&K UMP submachine guns, possibly taken from the Consortium's own armory, took up positions at either side of the ' door. The cultists surrounding the conference table all held knives, of various wicked and fearsome designs.

  "I cannot help but be disappointed," Eon said, "for I had thought that, while you did not share my vision, you were at least content to do your job and obey my instructions. I became suspicious when you started diverting resources to your own ends, but of course that could have been simple greed, and I can forgive greed if the greedy still serve me well." He began to pace up and down next to the conference table. The board members watched him, while the Iron Thunder cultists watched the board. Schucker could feel the tension in the room building.

  "I lost many good people in your attacks last night," Eon said. "And yes, I know it was you. My people are not fools, as you seem to think. Before they died, they made certain the knowledge of your crimes was transmitted to me through countless means. I had hoped to build to a monumental message, a message worthy of Iron Thunder's greatness. You sought to deprive me of that. I have thwarted you. What remained of your forces, those you recalled to this building to protect you, is no longer. You will find not a single Consortium security operative alive in this place."

  He snapped his fingers. One of the cultists, who had a backpack slung over her shoulders, pulled it off. She removed something from it and placed it on the conference table.

  It was Gunnar Heinriksen's head.

  "I will give you credit," Eon said. "You selected him, and he was a good man, and loyal to the end. He fought bravely, and killed many of my team as we tried to overrun him. I think he knew that, were we to get past him, you would be next. He never once begged for his life, either, not even when we were sawing his head off oh so laboriously. A brave man. Frankly, he was more worthy than the rest of these... creatures." He pointed at the board members.

  "While you plied these fools with your message and corrupted them, and watched them smile and nod in their betrayal of me," Eon said, growing more angry as he spoke, "my good people and I brought the gift of oblivion to all of the personnel in this building."

  It was then that Schucker realized the cultists surrounding him had blood on their hands. It was on their clothes, too. He hadn't noticed it at first, dazzled as he was by the sudden change in lighting. He realized, too, that the cloying scent he'd first thought to be his own fear was entirely too real. It was the smell of blood, of death. The cultists reeked of it.

  "Wait, Dumar," he said quickly. "This is all a misunderstanding. I did what I did for the company, surely. We can work this out. We can keep building. Say the word, and I'll pass the appropriate directives down the line. We can still make this work. We can still work together."

  "No," Eon said. "I don't think so. Even if I believed you, which of course I don't."

  "But, Dumar," Schucker said plaintively. "After all this time? Please, we can... It doesn't have to be like this. It doesn't. Let me just make a few calls. I can make this right! I can make this right again!"

  "No,"Eon said.

  "Dumar," Schucker said. "Look, you want me to show you that I can be devoted? I can kneel. Let me show you." He crouched, his hand drifting toward his right front pocket.

  "And now, David," Eon said, stalking toward Schucker, "I am going to beat you to death."

  Schucker went for the pocket automatic pistol he carried. Eon slapped it away contemptuously. He backhanded Schucker so hard that the smaller man's teeth rattled. Then he grabbed Schucker by the collar, bent him backward on the coffee table and pinned him there with one impossibly strong arm. Schucker, even as he clawed at the limb that held him pinned to the table, marveled at the strength of the cult leader. He had never suspected the man to be so strong.

  As Eon's fist crashed down again and again, Schucker's world began to fade to gray. "You... betrayed... me...." Dumar Eon said with each blow. "No one... betrays... Iron Thunder... with impunity."

  "Please," Schucker managed to gasp. "Please..."

  That brought Dumar Eon up short. "You... beg?"

  "Please, Dumar," Schucker said, his vision doubled, his face swelling. Agony shot through every fiber of his being. He could feel something within him breaking, something very, very important. He felt a strange sense of disconnection from his pain-racked body.

  "Very well," Eon said. "I want you to see this, anyway." He hauled Schucker up and turned him so that he faced the conference table. "Ladies and gentlemen of the board of the Security Consortium," he said, "I officially dismiss you. Your services are no longer required."

  "Now, wait just a minute," one of the braver men said. "We're investors. You can't just cut us out."

  "Can't I?" Dumar asked. He nodded, once.

  The cultists attacked, using their knives.

  "This is the best part," he whispered to Schucker. "Don't you think so? I regret I did not have this recorded. It would have made a fine Internet video. Don't you think? Well, don't you?"

  When the screams finally subsided, Eon brought David Schucker's face close to his own. "Can you still hear me in there?" he asked.

  "Please, Dumar...I... I..." Schucker stammered. Some portion of himself came back. "I... I was wrong. I only... only wanted the company to grow. To make money. You like money, Dumar. Everybody likes money. I have some. I could... I could give it to you."

  Eon ignored him. Still holding Schucker by the lapel in an iron grip, he gestured to the cultists. "Please, my brothers and sisters." He smiled. "Be seated."

  Those board members who were still in their seats were thrown to ihe floor. The cultists sat down, ringing the table, looking back at Eon with all the worship they could muster. With bloody knives still clutched in their
fists, they were a macabre parody of the men and women whose lives they had just taken.

  "Wait a moment." He looked down at Schucker. "David, did you just try to bribe me?"

  "Please, Dumar," Schucker wailed. "Please. Don't kill me. I don't want to die. Dumar."

  "I cannot believe," Eon said with consternation, "that I could have been such a poor judge of character. David, David, David. I thought a lot of you, once, and even when I realized what you were trying to do, I could appreciate it. You at least had a certain dignity in your devotion to your purpose. Do you really mean to throw all that away now with this... this gross display? David, that is disgusting." He turned his attention back to his murderous followers.

  "We have suffered much," the cult leader said. "I promised you a message. I can think of no better time to bring that message to the people. David here, probably believes that when his people stole my stockpiled chemical weapons, they got them all. What he failed to consider was that, given that I did not entirely trust him, given that I had reason to be suspicious for some time, I had some of those weapons moved. I had them cached in another location. And we, my brothers and sisters, can put our hands on those delightful tools of the gift of bliss. We can do so today. Does that not fill you with joy?"

  The cultists voiced their eager assent.

  "Are all of you committed, fully committed, to our cause? Understand that I am asking more of you than I have asked before. I am asking more than your willingness to take life. I am offering more than your own gifts of sweet oblivion. For today I intend to do something so remarkable, so indelible, that it will challenge the resolve of each and every person in this room. Are you still with me? Are you still my children?"

  The cultists cheered.

  "I'm glad," Eon said. "I'm so glad. Now, we are going to leave this place. As we do, I want you to set fires on every floor of this building. I want it burned to the ground, a testament to what happens to those who betray me." He paused. "Who here would like to tie up another loose end for me? There's someone I'd like to see removed from this earth. It's a matter of principle."