“That sounds as if you’re offering me a choice.”
“Catches on fast, doesn’t he?” Blancanales said.
“You can’t just shoot me.”
Lyons eased back the Python’s hammer so it made a solid sound.
“Right about now, scumbag, I can do just about anything I want.”
The man stared at him. The expression on Lyons’s face showed he was not fooling around. Carl Lyons had a way of projecting his menacing air without saying a word. His very presence gave him away.
“You can’t prove we did anything,” the guy said.
“Videos of you in the getaway car with the victim say different,” Blancanales said. “And we have your license plate on detail, as well. Plus we tracked you to that truck stop where you handed your captive over.”
“When we check the guns these guys have, what do you bet we match one to the murder weapon?” Lyons said.
“To the guy who shot the Air Force driver?” Blancanales asked.
“Yeah.”
“And somebody goes down for the rest of his natural.”
“Sounds fair. Maybe we should let the Air Force take this guy in,” Lyons said. “They’ll have a vested interest in him.”
“Sounds good to me.”
The captive shook his head. “You ain’t doing that.”
“You think? I can vouch it won’t be a smooth ride,” Blancanales said.
“Or we could still just shoot this piece of crap here and now,” Lyons said. “Save everyone a lot of hassle. Make it a clean sweep.”
“Son of a bitch, you can’t do that—”
“You don’t want to test him on that,” Blancanales said.
“I got rights.”
“So did that guy you executed.”
“It was...” the man started to say then fell silent.
“Part of the contract?” Blancanales suggested. “Kidnap Kaplan and don’t leave any witnesses?”
“That was Mackie did the shooting,” the guy rasped. “So he’s either dead or wounded.”
“You’re still in the frame,” Blancanales said. “You took part. Blame is shared.”
“Shit, all I did was drive the car.”
“Always one trying to dump responsibility,” Schwarz said as he joined his partners.
“What did you do to Kaplan?” Blancanales asked. “Is he hurt?”
“All we did was Taser him. Then he was given a needle to keep him quiet.”
“Where did you deliver him?” Lyons said.
“This count as being helpful?” the man choked out. “If I tell you?”
“Maybe,” Blancanales said. “We can say you were cooperative.”
“Cops are on their way,” Schwarz said. “Ambulance, as well.”
“Make it fast, before you’re taken into custody,” Lyons warned. “Clock’s ticking on any offers.”
“We handed the guy over...”
“We already worked that out,” Blancanales said. “Who to?”
“Bunch of guys at the truck stop.”
The same information Stony Man had pulled from the cameras and relayed to Able Team.
“You got names?”
The guy shook his head. “No names. But, hey, you sure this will help me?”
Lyons began to raise the Python.
“Okay, okay... All I can really tell you is that they were all Chinese.”
CHAPTER NINE
“Hey, you want to take over while I have a break?” Akira Tokaido said, swiveling his chair to face Hunt Wethers.
“It getting too much for you?” Wethers said.
“That’s right,” Tokaido said. “I don’t have the stamina of you older guys.”
“I heard him say that,” Carmen Delahunt said from her station. “I’m surprised you haven’t fallen facedown on your keyboard. You’re pushing too hard.”
“Can’t let go of this. Too much riding on it.”
“Then go and catch your breath,” Delahunt told him. “Take a walk. Get some air.”
“Send the files over,” Wethers said, still smiling. “Where have you got to?”
“Monitoring chatter from that merc group dealing with the Chinese guy in Hong Kong.”
Tokaido sent the open files across and Wethers began a slow read-through.
“Send me a look-in,” Delahunt said. “Let’s see if we can crack this while our cyber whiz takes a breather.”
“If Aaron comes back, tell him I won’t be away too long.”
“Akira, get out of here,” Wethers said.
“I think there might be something on Harry Rosen. Civilian contractor at Zero Command. Something’s a little off with his secondary bank accounts. There’re a number of big deposits coming in over the past few months. Certainly they weren’t from his job. So I ran background checks and traced the deposits to a source in Hong Kong.”
“We’re on it,” Delahunt said. “So go and take a break. Now you’re just being a pest.”
Tokaido shook his head, knowing he was being gently ribbed, as he made his way out of the room. His eyes were tired from prolonged hours staring at the monitor. Even with his youth and reserves, there came a time when concentration started to lapse and, despite the need to get answers, even the most dedicated person slipped over the edge. Tokaido headed for the surface and the chance to get out into the open air. Allow himself to relax and recharge his batteries. He knew he was leaving his research in the most capable hands around.
* * *
HUNTINGTON WETHERS MOTIONED for Aaron Kurtzman’s attention.
“We think we may have hit our break,” Wethers said. “We’ve followed through on what Akira had pulled up.” He brought an image up on his monitor, scrolling down to show Kurtzman the details.
“Our suspect, Harry Rosen, is a computer tech with accreditation that allows him to work at Zero Command on units supplied by the company he’s legitimately employed by. Problem is Rosen is hoarding money he didn’t earn through his work. Seems he has a couple of alternate bank accounts he doesn’t declare. Akira ran them down and came up with deposits from a source coming off the back of a company called Multi State Freight and Storage. MSF is owned and controlled by Dan Swoford.
“Now, as far as we can tell, MSF is more or less simply a dummy corporation handling large chucks of cash. The interesting thing is that MSF is listed by a parent company based in Hong Kong. The way they weave all this stuff together is fascinating. All credit to Akira for figuring it out.”
“I guess this is all leading to the payoff?” Kurtzman said.
“Talking about payoffs, over a four-month period there have been regular deposits into Rosen’s hidden accounts. In total...over half a million dollars.”
“I don’t suppose he won the lottery or was left the money by a late relative?” Kurtzman said.
“Rosen must be a pretty cool character to work this under the noses of the Air Force,” Delahunt said.
“Won’t be the first time it’s happened,” Kurtzman conceded. “Stay the course and bluff it out. If Rosen suddenly started to break his routines, it’s a sure way to put himself under suspicion.”
“Or attract the attention of Akira Tokaido.”
“Something like that,” Kurtzman said.
“There’s a tie-in between the guys who snatched Kaplan and Swoford. Looks like they’ve done backdoor deals with him before,” Wethers added. “Now we have a way in. The more we dig the more we seem to be uncovering. Swoford. Our kidnap crew. Now Rosen. All tied together with a faint but direct line that goes to the Chinese and this Colonel Chan.”
“China using these guys to push their illegal payments for deals they mastermind?” Delahunt suggested.
“We need to tie all this u
p and see if we can figure what else these bastards are planning,” Kurtzman said. “I’m going to contact Agent Valens. We have to pull Rosen in before he can do any more damage. Stay on this and see if there’s anything else brewing.”
CHAPTER TEN
Saul Kaplan woke slowly, drifting in and out of awareness. He felt sick, his body sluggish, muscles aching, reactions dulled by whatever had been pumped into his body. He was not a young man, so recovery took its time and was accompanied by the overwhelming sensation of disorientation. Kaplan understood it was going to take a while before his faculties returned to normal, so he made no overt moves. He simply remained where he was, allowing his senses to readjust.
He hated not being in control of himself. It went against his principles and he fought against that whenever it occurred. Just as he had rebelled when his overall control of the Zero Project had been hijacked by the Air Force. He had walked away, but after long consideration had stepped back in and allied himself to the experiment. It had paid off and after the recovery of the project following an attempt to take control by hostile forces, Kaplan had devoted himself to making sure Zero became active and successful. Even now, in his less than cohesive condition, Kaplan was sure that once more Zero was under attack.
He wasn’t aware how much time passed, but gradually his senses began to readjust themselves. Sound and sight and smell. He became aware he was slouched on a soft couch, his body slumped against leather. Sound reached his ears: a mix of voices and general noises of movement and activity. He picked up the smell of coffee. When he made a slight move he realized he was not restrained in any way. His hands and feet were not bound, and he accepted that was because there was little he could do to effect an escape. Simply raising an arm required an effort on his part, and at that moment he would not even have been able to stand on his legs, which felt leaden.
A dark figure crossed his line of vision—dark because his eyesight was still weak, blurred. Kaplan blinked furiously in an attempt to clear his vision.
“The sensation will pass, Dr. Kaplan. The blurred vision is one of the effects of the powerful tranquilizer doses you have been given. You may also experience some muscle aches. That will be from the Taser charge we used to initially subdue you.”
The voice—calm, almost soothing—sounded as if it came from a distance. Kaplan sensed there was a slight accent, but in his current state he couldn’t pin it down.
“I am not a doctor,” he said. His voice was hoarse, his mouth dry. “My name is Saul Kaplan, nothing else. No title... I never liked titles...”
“Mr. Kaplan, then. As you wish.”
“Why am I here? Who are you?”
“Questions that will all be answered in due time. First you need relax and allow your body to recover sufficiently.”
The man spoke to someone in the room, and shortly a glass was held to Kaplan’s lips. He tasted cold water and drank, his lips still not quite under control so that some of the liquid dribbled from his mouth. He did swallow enough to ease his dry throat.
“Control will return, Mr. Kaplan, given time. I advise you not to struggle. That will only serve to prolong the effects.”
“Don’t tell me you are concerned about my condition.”
“But of course. We require you to be in good health. Otherwise everything we have done would be a waste.”
“And we can’t have that, can we?”
“I detect an abrasive attitude, Mr. Kaplan.”
“Forgive me. I suppose I should be grateful for being kidnapped and held against my will.”
“I must admit if I was in your position I would harbor similar thoughts. However, you may as well accept your position. Anger, though expected, is not going to set you free.”
“I learned many years ago that anger is a negative endeavor. So I abandoned the emotion.”
“But you must experience some kind of feelings at the present time.”
Kaplan gave a weary smile. At least he hoped it was a smile because he wasn’t yet fully in control of his expressions. “Right now I am thinking about that man you murdered. Not anger, but sadness that because of me a human being had to die.”
“Forgive my indifference. It was a necessary act. We could not afford to leave a witness who might provide the Air Force with information about us. And do not put the blame on yourself. There was no way you could have prevented it.”
The effort of speaking had wearied Kaplan. He felt darkness closing in and had no strength to fight it.
“Allow yourself to sleep. It will help. Later, when you are feeling more yourself, we will talk. Oh, be aware you are not alone. You are being watched, so any attempt to remove yourself from this room would be futile. My dear Mr. Kaplan, accept that you are my prisoner and you will remain so for the foreseeable future.”
Kaplan understood his position. There was nothing he could do at the present time, so he allowed sleep to take him again and drifted off.
* * *
HE CAME OUT of it much later—hours later, he was told—and despite some remaining lethargy he did feel distinctly better. The room he was in, which turned out to be a well-appointed lounge that was comfortably furnished, was now lamp-lit and contained Kaplan and two men.
One sat some distance away from him, an automatic pistol resting in his lap.
The other man, who Kaplan guessed was the one who had spoken to him earlier, stood watching him as he roused from his sleep.
Both men were Chinese, and for some reason Kaplan was not surprised. Now he understood the mystery of the man’s accent.
“I trust you feel better,” the man said. “The effects should be well on their way to dissipating by now.”
The man was medium height, solid without being overweight. He wore a neat gray suit and a dark shirt with a crimson tie. The shoes he wore were black leather and highly polished. His black hair, brushed straight back, was collar-length and well cut. He had a well-defined, near-handsome face, and he was smiling at Kaplan.
He doesn’t look like a murdering kidnapper, Kaplan thought. He corrected himself because he had no idea what such a man should look like.
“My name is Nan Cheng. I do have a title, but will dispense with it during our relationship, so we are equal in that respect, Mr. Kaplan.”
Kaplan cleared his dry throat. “Let’s dispense with the formality. It serves little purpose. I’ll call you Cheng and you can simply call me Kaplan.”
“As you wish.” Cheng’s tone was still polite but Kaplan sensed there was another side to the man he did not want to visit.
Kaplan examined the lounge. At least they weren’t keeping him in some dirty back room. He began to sense that despite being Cheng’s captive he was not in any immediate danger of being harmed.
When he strained his ears he picked up subdued sounds coming from beyond the room. When his mind sorted the sounds he realized it was passing traffic. Voices. A faint and tinny sound of music.
A street?
Was he hearing street noises? Was this place in the city? A town?
Not that any of those things were going to be of help to him.
“So, Kaplan,” his captor said, “I would hazard a guess you would welcome a refreshing drink. Coffee? Tea? Something stronger?”
“Coffee. Black. Strong.”
Cheng gestured at the man in the chair. “Bolo, coffee for our guest. I will have my usual tea.”
The man stood immediately and left the room. He left the door open.
“Bolo has extremely good hearing. He is also very fast.”
“You don’t miss a trick.”
“You are an extreme valuable person,” Cheng said. “I cannot allow anything to happen to you.”
“Okay, Cheng, enough of the cozy chitchat. Isn’t it time you told me what it is you want with me? Though I can most
probably guess.”
Nan Cheng took a seat in the deep, leather armchair facing Kaplan. He patted the soft leather arms.
“Very comfortable,” he said. “So, why have I kidnapped you, Kaplan?”
“Zero. The American orbiting platform piloted by Major Douglas Buchanan. Facts you are obviously aware of. The Chinese government would like to gain control for its own ends. Control it, or destroy it. I created Zero. I have knowledge of how it functions and you, as a representative of the People’s Republic, want that knowledge.”
“Very astute, Kaplan.”
“A simple enough deduction. China tried once before, if you recall,” Kaplan said. “It failed then, so what makes you believe you can succeed this time?”
“As you said, Kaplan, this time we have you. The creator of Zero. The one man who has all the knowledge about it. The earlier attempt by General Tung Shan was mounted clumsily. He tried too hard, believing he could outwit your people by force and violence. He and his group were beaten and the general paid for his errors with his life.”
“A lesson to be learned,” Kaplan noted.
Cheng raised his hands. “True. And we have learned,” he said. “This time we will bring the creator of Zero to a safe place where we will have the security and the time to persuade you to give us what we want.”
“Are you so desperate to learn Zero’s secrets? Is it so much of a potential threat?”
“Let us say there is new thinking within China,” Cheng said. “You must understand, Kaplan, that my country cannot allow itself to fall behind in areas of technology. Times change and so does policy. We are both intelligent men and we are aware of the ongoing struggle for dominance. America desires to remain the most powerful nation in the world. Which is why Zero exists.
“There is more to its makeup than a powerful eye on the world for sophisticated mapping and weather forecasting. Zero is, in reality, a formidable weapons platform. We know it carries missiles. From the position Zero offers your Air Force, the United States could launch devastating attacks on any target it chooses. Am I correct?”
Death Minus Zero Page 8