“And what do you get out of this?”
“Twenty million dollars wired into an account I specify.”
“That’s all you want? Twenty million dollars? You know that ten thousand sets, if you really can deliver, are worth considerably more.”
“I’m a man of modest needs,” said Girdler.
“No one knows better than you do how much I loathe the US. You know I’ll sell the implants to your worst enemies. You’ve spent your entire life fighting for your country. So I’m not buying it. This has to be a trap.”
“Fuck my country!” spat Girdler bitterly. “I’ve given it everything! And I’m about to be repaid by being thrown in a military prison somewhere. After all I’ve done!” he screamed, spittle flying from his mouth and hatred and raw emotion turning his face red.
“So, what are you saying, that you want to work with me despite the fact that I hate your country? Or because of it?”
“I’m saying neither. I don’t give a shit either way. I’ve come to you because you have a reputation for being honorable. So if we do enter this arrangement, I’ll make sure a number of your key customers know about it. So word will get out if you double cross me on this. No one knows you better than I do, Victor. I’ve studied your methods. You’ve worked too hard to build your reputation to risk that. So you’re the only one I feel safe dealing with. The only one I can be sure will honor my conditions.”
Victor considered. The general made a very good point. If he were Girdler, he would reason the same way. This is why he worked so hard to achieve the reputation he had. So people would deal with him instead of others. “So what conditions do you have, other than the money?”
“First, no one gets hurt. I deliver the implants and Altschuler to you on a silver platter, and you carry out the ops. But zero deaths. And zero injuries. This has to be guaranteed. Dart guns and stun guns only. And you have to make sure the men guarding the factory are out of the blast zone before you blow it.”
“So you’re committing the ultimate treason—for money—and you don’t want to break any eggs? You do realize my customers will use the implants to help them break plenty of eggs, right?”
“Of course. But I know the men in question here. I chose them, and I’ve led them. In some cases I know their wives and kids. I need your absolute guarantee they won’t be harmed. Or the deal is off.”
Victor considered. “If I decide to work with you, and depending on the quality of your plan, this might be acceptable. But go on. What is your other condition?”
“I get Altschuler when you’re done with him. In pristine condition.” Girdler smiled icily. “Not that he’ll remain that way for long. But I want any damage done to him to be my doing, not yours. I’ll get personal satisfaction from it.”
“What is your beef with Altschuler?”
“It’s personal. And private.”
Victor nodded. He hadn’t expected Girdler to tell him, but it was worth a try. He wondered if Altschuler was somehow behind the trouble the general was now in.
“Okay,” said the arms dealer. “Again, if this continues to pass all of my tests and I decide it’s legitimate, you can have Altschuler. But only when I’m finished with him. Only after I’ve confirmed his data and have implants in my own head, working as advertised. This might take a week or two after I capture him.”
“That’s fine,” said Girdler. “After you take him, I’ll be the obvious suspect. So I’ll have to go to ground just prior to your attack on the factory. The manhunt for me will be extensive. To say the least. So I’ll need some time to lie low, alter my appearance, set some things up. So I probably won’t be in a position to take him off your hands until a few weeks after the op anyway. But I will need half of the money deposited into my account just after you capture him. The military will be as hot as a kicked hornet’s nest after the implants are stolen, and eluding the dragnet won’t come cheap.”
“Let me do more research, and more thinking, and get back to you.”
“You know how to reach me,” said Girdler.
***
Hall extricated himself from Victor’s mind feeling sick to his stomach. There were few people he had respected as much as Justin Girdler. How had the man turned like this? And what did he have against Alex?
There was no way for Hall to know. Girdler hadn’t come within mind-reading range of him for a long time now. For good reason.
Hall reentered Victor’s mind to learn when he would be handing Alex off to the general.
He stifled a gasp.
Girdler was on his way now.
Victor hadn’t told him this was his headquarters, simply that it was a secluded hand off location away from prying eyes.
But if Girdler arrived before Campbell and his team, Alex would be lost for a second time, and Hall’s cover could well be blown.
The colonel’s attack on the compound had been urgent before. But now it was even more so.
57
“Do we have any smelling salts, my friend?” said Victor.
Eduardo Alvarez frowned. “I’m afraid not,” he replied. He shook Hall vigorously, still sprawled out on Victor’s couch, and it was all Hall could do not to grunt or call out.
“How much of that tranquilizer did you give him?” asked Victor. “He should have awakened a long time ago.”
“We gave him a proper dose,” insisted Alvarez. “I guess some people are just more susceptible to it than others.” He shrugged. “I’m not a doctor. But he is still breathing.”
“Let’s keep it that way,” said Victor. “The last thing we need is for him to die on us. Not great for our reputation, as Al-Ansari would not be a happy customer.”
“He’ll be up,” insisted Alvarez, glancing in Hall’s direction in annoyance. “Soon.”
“I was hoping to demonstrate the implants for an hour or so and get him on his way. Before Girdler arrived. Now it looks like this won’t be possible.”
Hall read that Alvarez was wondering why this mattered. Girdler would be arriving at the outermost landing field, miles from the lodge. One of Victor’s men, named Roman, would escort a blindfolded Altschuler to the runway and hand him off to Girdler, who would immediately take off again. So Alvarez was at a loss to understand why Victor would care if this John Smith character was still on the premises or not.
What Alvarez didn’t know, but Hall did, was that Victor had been flirting with the idea of taking Altschuler to the runway himself. He and the general had been on opposite sides of a chessboard for many years and he had a healthy respect, even admiration for the man. So part of him was eager to meet Girdler in person. But given Smith’s continued state of unconsciousness, this decision was being taken out of his hands. He needed to remain here.
Just as well, Victor decided finally. He didn’t need to take an unnecessary risk just to assuage his curiosity.
“Tell Roman to round up Altschuler and take him to the runway now,” said the arms dealer. “Girdler will be here sometime within the next forty-five minutes, and we don’t want him to have any idle time on the ground.”
“Understood,” said Alvarez.
“And give Roman a tranq gun,” said Victor. “I promised Girdler he’d get Altschuler in mint condition. I doubt he’ll try to escape while he’s being taken to the runway, but just in case, I’d rather deliver him unconscious than with holes in him.”
He paused, glanced at the still form of Hall on the couch, and rolled his eyes. “And have Roman use the shortest duration darts you have. If he does need to use them, we want Altschuler to wake up sometime in this century.”
58
Campbell had never traveled so efficiently in his life. Seven of the twelve commandos from the Oscar raid had been available on short notice, and the five of these he had chosen had also raced to Oregon from their California bases of operations.
The colonel and all five men wore earpieces so they could receive the expected communications from Hall, as he had done during the Oscar op, and all w
ere dressed in faded green-and-brown camouflage and carried stun grenades, high-powered binoculars, knives, and automatic pistols with silencers attached.
Hall had briefed the colonel about Victor’s agreement with Girdler, and that the general would be arriving today to collect Altschuler, which ratcheted up the urgency even more. Campbell had thought his original three-hour estimate had been on the optimistic side, but he and the team were nearly in position twenty minutes earlier than expected.
“How soon until you’re ready to go?” asked Hall, as usual thinking these words into his implants, which were then converted to speech and sent to Campbell’s earpiece. Campbell was aware that Hall could have tried to fish this information from his mind, but in cases like this it was easier for him just to ask, and made interactions less awkward for others.
“Almost in place,” replied the colonel, a response that the small microphone attached to his lapel transmitted back to Hall’s implants. “Five minutes.”
“Girdler is due to land within the hour,” said Hall. “They’re having a guy named Roman move Alex right now. To the same runaway I landed on. Which really complicates our lives.”
“True,” said Campbell. “But with even a little luck we should be able to finish up here and free Alex before Girdler lands.”
“And if we don’t? What if Girdler takes off with Alex before we can stop him?”
“I’ll alert the NSA now to be sure the eyes in the sky are on anything leaving that runway. Girdler won’t have the stealth and anti-satellite-detection technology Victor has.” He paused. “Don’t worry, worst case, even if Girdler leaves, we aren’t going to lose him. I promise you we’ll retrieve Alex. And I also promise to stop the general.” Campbell’s tone became bitter. “At this point it’s become more than a little personal.”
“Can Girdler pilot a plane?”
“No. But he knows where to find a pilot for hire. And with the twenty million dollars you say Victor wired him, he isn’t exactly short on funds.”
Campbell had instructed the other five commandos to fan out and take cover at sixty-degree intervals, forming a rough circle of men, with the lodge at its center a hundred yards from each of them. The area they would need to traverse and clear encompassed several storage depots, sheds, and three other lesser lodges that surrounded the main building.
Finally, the colonel got word that the last man was in position at the exact opposite side of the main structure from where he was stationed, two football fields distant.
“Okay, Nick, we’re all in place,” said Campbell. “Confirm you’ve disabled the laser sensors, mines, and drones. And that no human eyes will see us begin to move in.”
There was a brief pause. “All confirmed,” replied Hall from his command center, a black leather couch, still thinking words at his implants and pretending to be unconscious.
“Okay. Everyone move in slowly and cautiously. Nick will direct you whenever he can. We need to clear this area of all men, but we also can’t be discovered by even one. Nick tells me that they all have electronic alarm devices in their pockets, which they can activate by sliding a small plastic switch with their thumbs. So before you strike, be sure you won’t miss. And be sure your target isn’t in sight of others who can sound the alarm.”
The ranch had varied terrain, so the opportunities for concealment also varied between the six attackers. The land was flat in some places and had slopes and hillocks in others, contoured enough to crouch behind. On the east side, a fifteen-foot-wide creek wandered lazily past the property. In addition to structures and worn-down wooden fences that looked as though they had been built during the Revolutionary War, the vegetation was random, from willow, black cottonwood, and alder trees, to meadows of brown and green wild grasses, growing out of control.
Campbell crept forward cautiously, wondering if he should have left the commando business to men who were younger and more capable than he was. He had been behind a desk for too long and was suddenly worried he might be the weak link in this chain.
“Andrews!” called out Hall. “Two men are seconds away from exiting the building to your left. No others inside. Neither knows you’re there.”
Several seconds passed. “Both men are down,” reported Andrews.
Hall continued to shout out warnings and directions to the commandos, enabling them to avoid being seen and to take down Victor’s people one by one.
Campbell approached a small lodge with four bedrooms. “Colonel,” said Hall, “the door is unlocked and no one is watching the main entrance. Two men are inside. One in the kitchen, and one in the large bedroom on the southeast side.”
“Roger that,” whispered Campbell as he slowly opened the door, wincing as it made creaking and groaning sounds loud enough to be the envy of even the most flamboyant of ghosts.
He crouched low and held his automatic pistol in front of him, keeping the gun in line with his eyes as they darted to every corner of the room. He heard Hall barking orders to other soldiers and knew he was on his own for a while.
He entered the kitchen as a towering man with Greek features was putting a pizza in an oven. But even as Campbell turned his gun to face him, the man moved with unbelievable speed, having seen Campbell’s reflection in the dark glass of the oven. The pizza crashed to the ground and the man wheeled around with his gun now drawn. Campbell depressed his own trigger and sent a brief burst of silenced rounds into the man’s chest, just moments before he would have sent his own volley in Campbell’s direction.
The crash of the pizza had been loud. Too loud.
The colonel waited beside the doorway to the kitchen for the other resident of the house to investigate, but after more than a minute had passed, Campbell concluded the ruckus had not disturbed him, after all. With doors closed in both the kitchen and bedroom, the sound hadn’t carried, or else the man hadn’t felt the need to investigate a clumsy colleague.
He opened the door cautiously and turned toward the southeast bedroom, determined to rid the structure of its last resident so he could sound the all-clear. He was halfway to his destination when he heard Hall’s panicked scream in his ear. “Colonel, behind you!”
Campbell dived to his right as a bullet came whistling by his face, drawing a groove of blood across his cheek. He hit the dusty wood floor with bone-jarring force and rolled, as the shooter closed the few yards distance between them and prepared to fire again.
Campbell’s long-forgotten training in hand-to-hand combat instantly returned, and he came out of his roll launching a desperation kick. His heavy boot caught the side of the attacker’s knee, tearing his meniscus and causing the shooter to change his aim and miss the colonel once again.
The man screamed in agony and fell to the floor, dropping his gun, which Campbell sent skating across the floor to the other end of the room. But just before Campbell could fire his own gun, his injured adversary seized his arm with one hand and kept the weapon from pointing in his direction.
“He’s going for a knife in his ankle holster!” screamed Hall.
Campbell had been hypnotically focused on the struggle for control of his arm, and Hall’s warning came just in time. He kicked out at his adversary’s other hand, just as the knife was coming into play.
The man cursed in surprise and pain as the knife was ejected from his grip, having thought Campbell had been unaware of this move.
The colonel was battling a younger, stronger opponent, and despite the damage to his adversary’s knee, the man was beginning to bend Campbell’s arm around so the gun pointed back at him, after which he would find a way to force the trigger down. With the last of his strength, Campbell flicked his wrist as hard as he could and flung the gun ten feet away.
The younger man went after it immediately, like a dog chasing a thrown ball, and Campbell yanked his legs out from under him, causing him to crash once again to the floor. But the man’s reaction to this was almost supernaturally swift, as he rolled onto his back and slammed the side of his right fist
like a heavy brick into Campbell’s left ear, temporarily dazing him and obliterating his earpiece.
Given Campbell’s glassy-eyed look, the man crawled several feet away and chanced reaching into his pocket to root for a silver-dollar-sized electronic alarm, pulling it from his pocket. But before he could feel for the plastic switch he needed to slide to the left to activate the device, Campbell recovered his senses—just enough. He couldn’t reach the alarm, so he dived toward the younger man and pounded at his injured knee with a fist, eliciting another howl of anguish. Before the man could fully recover, Campbell pressed his brief advantage, pulling a combat knife from his belt and plunging it into his opponent’s chest. Despite the red bloom that spread across the man’s shirt, Campbell stabbed him repeatedly, unable to stop until long after all vestiges of life had drained from his face.
Campbell remained on the floor for several minutes, panting from exertion and waiting to fully recover his senses, strength, and equilibrium. The blow to his ear had dazed him badly, and only an adrenaline-fueled miracle had allowed him to find the last burst of energy and clarity that had saved his life.
Finally, the colonel gathered himself, rose, and stumbled out of the door. From everything he had heard before he lost communications, almost all of Victor’s people had been taken out, and no alarm had sounded.
And he had been the weak link, after all. As far as he could tell no others had had any difficulty with the mission, especially given Hall’s assistance.
“Nick,” he said into his microphone, hoping that Hall was also reading his mind. “I’ve lost audio. Send our nearest man to meet up with me here, so I can communicate through him.”
The colonel waited, searching the area with his high-powered binoculars. After five minutes, no one appeared to be coming his way. He was about to take his chances and assume the rest of the team had made it to the main lodge when he noticed something alarming through the binoculars.
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