Uncut Terror

by Don Pendleton

  “Fine by us,” Bolan said, “but tell us more about Lumumba and how he relates to Grodovich.”

  Lupin had just finished taking another drink from his mug. He swallowed and nodded. “Lumumba, or Le Grand Prince, as he wishes to be called, arrived yesterday from Africa. His previous trips to Europe have all been to obtain funds for the purchase of arms.”

  “And his currency is diamonds,” Bolan said. “Given the state of the country he’s from, we’re most likely talking about conflict diamonds.”

  “Exactly,” Lupin said. “It should be noted that this time he has four associates who traveled with him. Three are his bodyguards. Although our customs officials found nothing out of the ordinary in any of their luggage, it is believed he brought with him an undisclosed amount of blood diamonds.”

  “How’d he do it?” Grimaldi asked.

  “Ah, Jacques,” Lupin said with a grin. “You can speak after all.”

  Grimaldi snorted.

  Lupin placed his elbows on the table and hunched toward them, lowering his voice. “The fourth individual Lumumba brought with him... The first thing they did upon their arrival at their hotel was to summon a surgeon. It is my strong belief that this fourth individual is most likely a mule. It is believed he has the diamonds concealed internally. In his colon.”

  Grimaldi grimaced. “I’m sorry I asked.”

  The right side of Lupin’s mouth rose into a half smile. “It should also be of particular interest that the second thing Le Gran Prince did upon his arrival was to notify Yuri Kadyrov that he was there. I believe they will set up a meeting as soon as possible. Perhaps for tomorrow evening. It is a meeting I intend to scrupulously monitor.”

  “Sounds like something we’d like to be in on, as well,” Bolan said.

  Lupin looked at each of them and winked. “That is exactly what I hoped you would say.”

  The Van de Roovaart Hotel

  Antwerp, Belgium

  STIEGLITZ PAUSED AT the edge of the lavish dining room and saw the group of them sitting at one of the large tables. Grodovich sat at the head, with his faithful giant next to him. Rovalev sat on the opposite side, situated so he had an unimpeded view of the entrance.

  A prudent decision for a professional assassin, Stieglitz thought.

  He cleared his throat as he stood there, almost obscured by the plush curtain that had been draped over the entrance way.

  Rovalev’s eyes immediately shot his way.

  Grodovich and the giant roared with laughter as a pretty girl bent over their table refilling their wineglasses. No glass sat in front of Rovalev.

  Stieglitz cocked his head slightly and moved toward the elevators. By the time he’d gotten to the lifts and pushed the button, the Black Wolf was beside him.

  “What is the source of such amusement?” Stieglitz asked, motioning toward the dining room.

  “Alexander was relating how Mikhal had his first encounter with a woman a few days ago,” Rovalev said.

  Stieglitz frowned. So now it was Alexander and Mikhal... He hoped a friendship had not developed between them and Rovalev. It could prove difficult later on. But the Black Wolf’s face showed no mirth as he spoke. He looked like a man describing the weather.

  The elevator doors opened and Stieglitz and Rovalev stepped inside.

  As soon as the doors had closed, Stieglitz spoke in a clipped tone. “Your assignment is not to befriend them.”

  “You needn’t remind me of my assignment,” Rovalev said in an equally blasé tone. “Nor of my responsibilities.”

  The elevator doors opened to their floor. Stieglitz hurriedly stepped into the hallway, withdrawing his key as he glanced around. No one else was there. He motioned for Rovalev to come with him.

  Once inside the room, Stieglitz secured the safety lock and then checked thoroughly for anyone else’s presence.

  “I told you I swept all our rooms earlier for listening devices,” Rovalev said. “Do you wish me to repeat the search?”

  Stieglitz nodded vigorously. He sat down on the bed and watched the Black Wolf check the room with some attachment he affixed to his mobile. These elaborate espionage games were wearing thin.

  I am not intended for such things, he reminded himself.

  Finally, Rovalev put his mobile away and said it was all clear.

  Stieglitz stood and looked the other man in the eyes.

  “What I am about to tell you does not leave this room,” he said. “Understood?”

  Rovalev nodded, his expression serious, intense.

  “The American agents,” Stieglitz said, “the same ones who were in Moscow, are here in Antwerp.”

  “Do you wish me to kill them?”

  “No, no,” Stieglitz said. “Not at this time. They are being monitored. What was your assessment of the Chechen?”

  “Grodovich’s partner? A clever fellow. He covers his intelligence with a guise of boorish drunkenness. I suspect he was less inebriated than he pretended to be.”

  “Do you foresee any problems in killing him and his group of thieves?”

  Rovalev shook his head. “He is but a Chechen fox. I am a Russian wolf.”

  Stieglitz took a deep breath, then exhaled. “It must be done at tomorrow’s meeting. Grodovich already knows this will happen. There will be no objection or interference on his part. He believes that Kadyrov sent some men to kill him when he was in prison.”

  Rovalev raised his right eyebrow. “An assumption we wish him to keep?”

  Stieglitz nodded. “You must also kill the man Kadyrov and Grodovich are going to meet. An African named Lumumba. He will have three armed guards with him.”

  Rovalev nodded again.

  “And most important,” Stieglitz said, reaching into his coat pocket. His fingers brushed the wrapped package. Did he dare touch it? He did not wish to, but he had no choice. Gripping it, he brought the package out and set it carefully on the middle of the bed. “You must place this on the dead African’s body. Make it look as if he had it secreted on him when he arrived.”

  Rovalev’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?”

  Stieglitz took another deep breath. How much should he divulge at this time? He’d been ordered to tell Rovalev as much as he needed to know to carry out this phase of the plan—but not everything. Not yet.

  Slowly, with trembling fingers, he began to unwrap the package. He had difficulty untying the string wrapped around the box. A knife suddenly appeared in the Black Wolf’s hand and with a deft flick of his wrist he severed the troublesome constriction.

  Stieglitz recoiled at the sight of the shiny blade. Pursing his lips, he opened the box and removed a wrapped item about the size of an apple. His fingers peeled back the surrounding paper until an uneven, grayish stone was exposed.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Rovalev asked.

  “A diamond,” Stieglitz said, nodding. “A very special diamond.” He looked up with as much gravity as he could muster. “One that will change the world.”

  10

  The Diamond Quarter

  Antwerp, Belgium

  BOLAN AND GRIMALDI sat in the backseat of Lupin’s vehicle, a nondescript, black Citroën, and waited while the INTERPOL agent talked on his cell phone. He was in the front passenger seat and another man, whom neither Bolan nor Grimaldi had seen prior to this evening’s surveillance, was behind the wheel. One of the benefits of working with INTERPOL, Brognola had told him, was that they could tap into local law enforcement resources without any red tape.

  Bolan hadn’t been surprised when Lupin came by the hotel to pick them up, advising that the special team was already assembled and monitoring Lumumba’s cell phone transmissions.

  “You’re tapping his line?” Grimaldi asked.

  “Of course.” Lupin turned in the seat and looked at
them. “At the moment we are also triangulating his location.” He shook his head. “We are certain he’s meeting with the Robies and Monsieur Grodovich, but we do not know where, as of yet. I have two cars following them.”

  “How many men does he have with him?” Bolan asked.

  “Alas, only three,” Lupin said. “When our sources at the hotel advised us of their departure, they also mentioned that Le Gran Prince and his party refused, in a most adamant fashion, any type of services from the maids.” He grinned. “That, coupled with them summoning the physician to the hotel, suggests something is amiss in his suite.”

  “You guys hit it?” Grimaldi asked.

  Lupin laughed. “Ah, you Americans. Cowboys all of you. Here in Europe we operate on a less flamboyant modus operandi.”

  “It’d be nice to know if he brought conflict diamonds into the country,” Bolan said. “And if he did, whether or not he’s got them with him.”

  “Mon ami, I said that we operated with less flamboyance.” Lupin smiled. “But I did not say with less resourcefulness. We had a female police officer, masquerading as a maid, enter the suite a few minutes ago.”

  “And?” Grimaldi said.

  Lupin shook his head, a tinge of sadness in his voice. “She found one of the Africans in a very bad way, bleeding profusely from the abdominal area. Internally, as well. He was rushed to the hospital by ambulance.”

  “The one you said was the mule?” Bolan asked.

  Lupin nodded. “From the amount of blood on the bed, it appears that surgery was done in the suite and not with much regard for the comfort or safety of the patient. Unfortunately, the man speaks only some obscure, African tribal language and attempts to question him have proved fruitless.”

  “That should still be enough to bring Lumumba in for questioning,” Bolan said. “But it’ll be more solid if you can tie him to Kadyrov.”

  “And perhaps,” Lupin said, “to your target, Monsieur Grodovich, as well.” Then his cell phone rang and he held up his finger as he answered it, fitting an earpiece into place. He spoke in Flemish, a language Bolan recognized but did not understand. He and Grimaldi exchanged glances, the message clear between them: it was always difficult to sit in the backseat when you were used to being the driver in the race.

  Lupin terminated his conversation and turned in his seat once more.

  “They have entered the Diamond Quarter,” he said. “They’re on De Keyserlei. They are driving with less speed now, and Lumumba is making another phone call. As soon as they stop, we should have their position and be ready to move in.”

  “How far away are we?” Bolan asked.

  Lupin made a clucking sound. “Unfortunately, we are a little ways away, but I have my two men on him. They will watch where Le Gran Prince goes and advise. Do not fear, mon ami. We will get them.”

  Bolan nodded and looked out the window. Night had descended over the city and despite the plethora of lights twinkling in the darkness, something was gnawing at him.

  “Of course,” Lupin said, “we intend to bring Lumumba in for questioning about the injured man in his hotel room, but unless we find direct evidence of smuggling the conflict diamonds, it will be difficult to arrest the two Russians, as well.”

  “That’s fine,” Bolan said. “You take Lumumba and leave us to have a little private conversation with Grodovich and Kadyrov.”

  “If they remain,” Lupin said. “Keep in mind that the Diamantwijk is only a few kilometers from Berchem Airport. Perhaps, if they feel threatened, they will attempt to flee.”

  “I don’t think so,” Bolan said “Grodovich made too much of a show before he left Moscow about this big deal he had in the works. I don’t think he’s going to leave without something to show for his visit.”

  Lupin’s body visibly stiffened as he pressed a button on his cell phone and a finger against the earpiece. Shaking his head, he said something and then turned to them. “The reception is bad. I must get out.”

  He opened the door and took several long steps away from the car. The conversation lasted about a minute, then Lupin paused, looked at his phone and pressed more buttons. After a moment he started speaking again. This conversation was fairly short, and after a few more minutes, he got back in the car and said something to the local policeman in Flemish and the man shifted into gear. The car started moving forward and accelerated to a fairly fast speed. Lupin turned back to them once more, a broad smile stretched across his face.

  “They have stopped,” he said. “An old, abandoned factory building near the outer edge of the district. That is, as you Americans say, the good news.”

  “What’s the bad news?” Bolan asked.

  “It is a very large building and in a state of disrepair. Scheduled to be rehabilitated.” Lupin began punching in more numbers on his cell phone. “I am afraid I must summon more men to assist us before we attempt to enter. After all, I am only a humble civil servant. My pay is not sufficient that I should risk my life.”

  As he fingered the earpiece again and started talking on the phone, Bolan exchanged a nod with Grimaldi. He knew they were both thinking the same thing: Just get us there and you can wait in the car for your backup. Leave the entry to us.

  * * *

  GRODOVICH FELT A small bit of comfort that Mikhal was at his side as Yuri Kadyrov led them through the hallways of the huge, abandoned factory, accompanied by two of his diamond-stealing assistants. One of them held a flashlight and a radio; the other lugged a heavy suitcase filled with euros and American dollars. After receiving the call from Lumumba, Yuri told the Robies to spread out, stationing two men at the back entrance and two more just inside the doors.

  Stieglitz had elected to remain at the hotel, saying he had stomach problems. Grodovich suspected the man was afraid of the pending trouble. He also knew that Rovalev and his cohorts were nearby. Stieglitz’s plan did not allow for any treacherous partnerships, especially with thieves. The Black Wolf would settle all accounts tonight, including revenge for the botched assassination attempt that Yuri had engineered back at Krasnoyarsk. Rovalev had promised that Mikhal could handle it personally.

  For now, his old partner was back to being good old friendly Yuri, laughing through an affected inebriated haze. As they walked through the darkness, their path illuminated by flashlights, Grodovich wondered if Stieglitz was correct. That perhaps Yuri had orchestrated another assassination for this meeting or maybe shortly thereafter. Grodovich was gambling with his own life here, so knowing that the Black Wolf, and his paid mercenaries, were lurking somewhere close was another way of hedging his bets.

  They were deep inside the bowels of this large structure now. Grodovich could see that the brick walls had been well built, but little else remained to herald the once proud construction efforts. The interior held skeletons of different rooms, some, but not all, of which had walls. The Robie Cat leading the procession paused and held up his hand. He lifted a small radio to his mouth and spoke into it.

  In Chechen, not Russian.

  Yuri and the two Robies accompanying them were the only ones who understood that language. Perhaps his erstwhile partner did indeed have more in mind than a diamond deal with this African butcher.

  “Go through here,” Yuri said, pointing down a hallway. It was a perfect place for an ambush.

  “This is like a maze,” he said. “Why are we having this meeting in such a place?”

  Yuri smiled. It was more of a leering grin. He’d been slurping up borscht and vodka all afternoon and Grodovich wondered how the man could walk straight.

  “Does that concern you, Alexander?” Yuri said and then laughed. “But of course. Prison has made you more cautious. Here, my man and I will go first. And your giant can bring up the rear. You will be well protected.”

  Mikhal straightened at the mention of him, glaring down at Yuri, who laug
hed.

  “Does your big friend ever smile?” he asked. “I must tell him the legend of Antwerp harbor. It involves a giant who thought he was invincible but ended up getting his hand chopped off before being thrown into the water.” Yuri’s hand shot out and slapped against Mikhal’s huge abdomen. “Tell me, my huge man-mountain, can you swim?”

  Mikhal said nothing. He kept glaring at the other man.

  One of Yuri’s henchman led the way down the corridor while the other left them. Grodovich could hear the muffled sound of an engine of some sort. Then he saw a flicker of light ahead as a door opened. More light shone from the room. A generator must be somewhere nearby.

  The man held the door open and they stepped inside. The room was illuminated by three stationary pole lamps, each with a bright electrical bulb glowing from under thin translucent shades. An old wooden table sat in the middle of the floor, with two chairs on either side.

  Three black men, wearing dark business suits, white shirts and black neckties and looking very much like professional soldiers, stood behind an immense man who was seated in one of the chairs. This man wore a bright green jacket and a red beret. To say he was big was not to compare him to the likes of Mikhal. Indeed, this man’s corpulent form had the look of overindulgence and dissipation rather than strength and power. But although his body appeared soft, his eyes had a cruel, hard cast.

  “Jonathan,” Yuri said, stepping forward with a wide grin. “How are you, my friend?”

  Lumumba smiled but remained seated. A briefcase sat on the floor next to him.

  “I am ready to make a deal,” the African said and laughed. It had an almost musical quality, dancing up a few octaves and then down again before ending abruptly. Grodovich thought it bore a strange resemblance to the cackling of a madman.

  “Then let us not waste time,” Yuri said. He motioned for the assisting Robie to place the suitcase on the table. “Let me see the stones.”