Uncut Terror

by Don Pendleton

  “Nine millimeter,” Grimaldi said, holding up the mag. “Who you working for?”

  The man said nothing.

  Lupin addressed him in Russian. The man’s eyes flickered slightly, but he still remained silent.

  “We can interrogate him later,” Bolan said. “We need to clear the rest of this floor. The backups can do upstairs.”

  Grimaldi nodded and gave the adversary’s head a nudge with the SIG. “Don’t go away. We’ll be right back.”

  “Keep watch on him,” Bolan said to Lupin. Although the Executioner appreciated Lupin’s eagerness to accompany them, his lack of equipment and tactical expertise made him more of a liability. “We’ll be right back.”

  The INTERPOL man nodded and held his small Walther PPK 6 in front of the prone man’s face. He said something else in Russian, then looked at Bolan. “I do not know if he understands me, but I told him if he moved, I would kill him.”

  “Somehow I think he got the message,” Grimaldi said with a grin.

  Bolan was already at the door, checking the remainder of the hallway. He told Grimaldi to provide cover and went down the hall at a rapid pace. When he got to the end, he flipped down his night vision goggles and surveyed the interior. That last section of drywall had been an anomaly. The rest of the place was wide open, containing a skeleton of wooden frames with no walls. Moving to the rear door, Bolan paused and checked it, noting the torn cobwebs. The latch had been pulled back to the unlocked position. Once Grimaldi was next to him, Bolan shoved open the door and did another quick peek. The door opened into an alleyway.

  A big rat scurried across the ground to the apparent safety of some garbage cans. Nothing else moved.

  Bolan heard the crack of two gunshots coming from the area they’d just left.

  It had to involve Lupin.

  Slamming the door and shoving the latch in place, Bolan and Grimaldi ran back down the corridor, stopping outside the room. Bolan, who’d gotten there first, edged around the door and saw Lupin, his head canted to the side, standing over the body of their last adversary. Two small, round holes were in the center of the man’s forehead and twin ribbons of blood ran from both the holes and the man’s mouth onto the cold concrete floor. A wisp of smoke lingered around the barrel of the Walther. Lupin turned to look at Bolan.

  “He tried to make a break for it,” Lupin said. “I guess he did not believe I would kill him.”

  The loss of possible intel bothered Bolan, but he didn’t say anything. This whole mission had been plagued with bad luck from the beginning. He lowered his Beretta. In the distance he could hear the uneven wail of European police sirens.

  The Van de Roovaart Hotel

  STIEGLITZ TOOK A deep breath as he punched in the number on the special mobile phone. The call was answered on the first ring.

  “What have you got to report?” the voice on the phone said.

  He hadn’t expected such a quick interrogative. Stieglitz started to take another breath when the voice spoke again, this time with a harsher edge. “I am waiting.”

  “Yes, sir,” Stieglitz said, his nervousness raising the pitch of his voice. “I was merely calling to advise you that everything went as planned. We eliminated Grodovich’s former partner, and Rovalev placed the stone on the body of the African.”

  A few seconds of silence were followed by a slightly more relaxed tone. “That is good. Where is the large stone now?”

  “They are taking it to some man in the Diamond Quarter for appraisement and preparation.”

  “Has Rovalev been fully briefed on how I wish that to proceed?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And the Americans?”

  “I am awaiting a further report on them.” Stieglitz glanced at his watch. “My latest information said they discovered the bodies in the meeting place and were working with the local police.”

  “What have they reported to their authorities regarding the diamond?”

  Stieglitz held his breath. It was a question to which he had no answer. Trying to swallow, but finding his mouth dry, he managed to say, “I believe they are operating under the assumption that the African was here with a large quantity of conflict diamonds.”

  The voice became tense again. “I asked you what they have reported to their superiors.”

  Stieglitz hesitated, not knowing how to reply.

  “You do not know,” the voice asked. “Is that it?”

  “I—I...” Stieglitz stammered.

  “Find out.” The tones were clipped, angry again. “Make certain the trail is obvious enough for them to follow. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

  “Good. And remember our time constraints. Call me back with an update.”

  Stieglitz replied in the affirmative and listened for further instructions. He heard nothing. Waiting what he felt was an appropriate amount of time, he tentatively asked, “Is there anything else, sir?”

  No response.

  Stieglitz glanced at the screen to confirm the call had been terminated and then slipped the mobile back into his pocket.

  Abandoned Factory

  De Keyserlei Avenue

  BOLAN WATCHED AS the police evidence technicians busied themselves photographing and collecting the array of shell casings from the floor of the old factory. He glanced at his watch. They’d been tied up here for the better part of an hour while Lupin explained to the Belgian authorities about the dead bodies and the events that had led to the firefight.

  Grimaldi took a sip from his paper cup and nodded. “At least Lupin got us some decent hot chocolate. I’m kind of developing a taste for this stuff.”

  Bolan hadn’t touched his. He knew that with each tick of the clock their main quarry, Grodovich, was getting farther and farther away.

  “You going to drink yours?” Grimaldi asked.

  The Executioner shook his head and motioned for Lupin to come over.

  The INTERPOL man walked with slow deliberation, stopping in front of both of them. His face had a drawn, dour look.

  “You wish to speak with me, Coop?” he said.

  Bolan nodded. “How much longer are we going to be tied up here?”

  Lupin shrugged. “As I told you, the police do not often see a homicide like this.” The corners of his mouth tugged into a half smile and he looked at Grimaldi. “It’s like something out of one of your American movies.”

  “That’s right, pilgrim,” Grimaldi said, doing an exaggerated imitation of John Wayne. “And make sure you remind them we’re not giving up our guns.”

  Lupin laughed. “That is very good. His movies were popular when I was growing up.” He stopped and snapped his fingers. “And what was it they called him?”

  “The Duke,” Grimaldi said.

  “Of course.” Lupin nodded. “American royalty. From now on, that is what I shall call you. No more Jacques.”

  Grimaldi grinned.

  “We need to pick up Grodovich,” Bolan said. “Find out about his involvement in all this.”

  Lupin turned serious again. “I have already done that. A BOLO, as you Americans say, has been issued. As soon as he is located, we will be notified. In the meantime, I must attend to matters here. The two dead officers were Belgians, so emotions are at a high level.” He paused. “I feel a certain responsibility for their deaths.”

  “We hear you,” Grimaldi said. “We lost one of ours a few days ago.”

  “In the meantime,” Lupin said, his face regaining its merriment, “do you wish for more hot chocolates? I can send someone.”

  Bolan shook his head, silently assessing the situation. Perhaps it would be better to wait until the Belgian authorities located Grodovich. It was their country, their city, and they certainly had more resources at their disposal.

&nb
sp; “Very well, then,” Lupin said. “The chief investigator will be here shortly to take your statements. I will translate.”

  With that, the INTERPOL man walked away.

  The Diamond Quarter

  GRODOVICH WATCHED AS Malachi Bloom cleaned off the stained surface of the large diamond with a camel-hair cloth. Mikhal stood beside them, looking around at the man’s office. The giant seemed fascinated by the tools and machines. Rovalev stood on the other side of Bloom, never letting the gem out of his sight. Grodovich had assured both him and Stieglitz of Bloom’s skill as a gemologist.

  “Both Yuri and I have worked with him in the past,” Grodovich had said. “And his work is second to none.”

  “Tell that to your friend Yuri when you see him again,” Rovalev said.

  That remark had begun to bother Grodovich a bit more than when the Black Wolf had originally said it.

  Bloom stopped polishing and raised the stone to his mouth, exhaling a long breath onto its surface and then watching the fog evaporate. His shaggy eyebrows lifted and he muttered to himself as he began searching his desktop for something. Finally, among a sea of paperwork, he picked up a jeweler’s loupe. Placing it on his glasses frame, he flipped the loupe down and scrutinized the large stone once again. After a few moments, he picked up a small, portable diamond detector and held the metal end against the stone. The green light shot across the gauge seconds later. Bloom’s lower lip protruded and he set the detector down, nodded and murmured to himself.

  “Never have I seen a stone this large or this flawless,” he said in English, the only language he and Grodovich shared. “It rivals the Congolese Giant that was found in 1907.”

  “What’s your estimate of its worth?” Grodovich asked.

  “I need to do a closer examination,” Bloom said. “Run some more tests, look for and mark the inclusions.” He rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

  “How long will that take?” Rovalev asked.

  Bloom looked to the other man and shrugged again. “It can’t be rushed. With something this large, each inclusion, or flaw, must be carefully sought out and marked so I know where the cuts are to be made.”

  “We don’t want all that,” Rovalev said. “We just need you to give us an estimate of its worth and prepare a parcel.”

  Bloom considered this. “Do you have the proper documentation as to where this stone was found?”

  “We will need your expert help on that, as well,” Grodovich said. “Papers verifying the Kimberley Process.”

  Bloom smiled, keeping his lips pressed together. “Such documentation takes a long time to prepare,” he said. “As does the examination, cutting and polishing. If you want several good diamonds with fifty-eight facets each from this colossus, I will need at least a week.”

  “A week?” Grodovich smiled. He’d been expecting a tug-of-war with this wily bastard. It was Bloom’s way of driving up the price of his services.

  “We don’t have that kind of time, old man,” Rovalev said. “Prepare a parcel with the appropriate details and the Kimberley verification papers. And do it quickly.”

  Bloom’s mouth twisted downward. “Alexander, your friend’s impertinence is not appreciated.”

  “Listen,” the Black Wolf said, “the World Diamond Council conference begins next week in New York and we intend to auction off the stone at that event.”

  Bloom’s eyes widened as he looked up at Grodovich, who nodded.

  The man considered this and raised an eyebrow. “You plan to auction this stone at the conference?” He blew out a derisive breath. “Leave it in my hands and I will get you a much better price.”

  “I already told you what we want,” Rovalev said. “Now do it.”

  Bloom took a deep breath, looking back to the stone in his hand, his head bobbling like a buoy in choppy water. “It is impossible that I could do an adequate job in such a short time. You should have brought this to me earlier. Much earlier.” He glanced at a calendar on the wall, seemed to do some mental calculations and then shook his head again. “No, it is not possible. I need to run some additional tests.”

  “What kind of tests?” Grodovich said.

  Bloom flipped down the loupe again. “I’ll need to determine the specific density, the amount of nitrogen infusion...” He paused and stared at the diamond through the magnifier again. “This stone is almost too perfect. Perhaps I should check something else now.”

  “Check what?” Grodovich asked.

  Bloom didn’t answer. Instead, he got up and went to a filing cabinet next to his desk. He opened the drawer and withdrew a long, iridescent tube attached to a plastic handle.

  “Light rays,” Bloom said. “They register at certain frequencies—” He stopped suddenly and gasped.

  Grodovich followed the old man’s gaze and saw that Rovalev had his Tokarev pistol out and was pointing it directly at Bloom.

  “What are you doing?” Grodovich asked.

  Mikhal lumbered over and stood beside Grodovich, who placed a calming palm on the giant’s chest. He did not want Rovalev to shoot his protector.

  Rovalev told everyone to be quiet as he removed his mobile phone and pressed some buttons. Presently, he was speaking in Russian to someone, Stieglitz, most probably, and listening intently.

  From what Grodovich could discern from the one-sided conversation, Rovalev had told Stieglitz about the delay and Bloom’s desire to do additional tests.

  Rovalev listened, ended the call and placed the mobile back into his pocket. Keeping the pistol extended, Rovalev walked over and took the device from Bloom’s hands. He set it on top of the filing cabinet and then gave Bloom a backhanded slap. The man’s head jerked and a look of terror filled his eyes.

  Rovalev glanced toward Grodovich and Mikhal. “Go back to the hotel and pack. We will be leaving Belgium shortly.”

  Grodovich didn’t like the sound of that but knew he couldn’t argue. Obviously, Stieglitz had given Rovalev specific instructions. He nodded for Mikhal to head toward the door.

  “Alexander, where are you going?” Bloom said, his voice brittle with terror. “What did this man say to you?’

  Oh, that’s right, Grodovich thought. The old man did not understand Russian. He paused and tried to make his smile as reassuring as possible.

  “Do not worry, Malachi,” he said. “My impetuous associate has a specific set of instructions for you. I suggest you follow them with the utmost care.”

  He turned and left, listening as Rovalev began speaking in slow, deliberate English.

  “Listen to me, you bastard. This is what you are going to do...”

  Grodovich felt a twinge of pity for the old man. He had always appreciated Bloom’s artistry.

  The Diamantwijk District Police Station

  IT WAS ZERO-SEVEN-THIRTY by the time they finished giving their statements. As they stood in the hallway outside the row of offices, Lupin spoke to the chief inspector in Flemish. They shook hands and Lupin turned back to Bolan.

  “The inspector is satisfied with the accounting of the incident,” Lupin said. “He also wishes me to thank you for your assistance.”

  Bolan looked at the man and nodded.

  Lupin continued. “He must go to see the families of the two officers who were killed.” He paused and looked away a moment. “A difficult task, to say the least, but it will give their families some small solace to know that the men we believe responsible were also killed.”

  “If they were the only shooters,” Bolan said. “The ballistics might be able to tell you that, if you recover any projectiles.”

  Lupin nodded. He flashed a weary smile. “Well, since I have kept you up all night, may I take you both to a fabulous restaurant not too far from here, where we can get the most magnifique—”

  “Have they picked up Grodovich yet?�
�� Bolan asked.

  Lupin canted his head slightly as one side of his mouth tugged downward. “Alas, no. Not as of yet. But, as I said, the BOLO—”

  “When we entered that room I saw several items on the table,” Bolan said. “Two wallets, three wrist watches, some currency and a business card.”

  Lupin raised his eyebrows. “You must have a photographic memory. I cannot recall any of that.”

  “The bodies were placed in a neat row, which seems odd,” Bolan said. “And why would that stuff be on the table?”

  Lupin’s brow furrowed. “An excellent question.” He turned to the inspector and they conversed in Flemish. The inspector went to a nearby desk and picked up a phone. After dialing and giving some instructions, he turned back and said something else to Lupin.

  “They are bringing the items to us now,” Lupin said.

  Approximately ten minutes later a uniformed policewoman walked in with seven clear plastic bags. Each bag had been sealed with red evidence tape and a white inventory sheet was paper clipped to each one. The woman laid the items on the desk.

  Bolan sorted through the plastic bags, though he couldn’t read the lists describing what the wallets contained, because they were in Dutch. He picked up the one with the business card. One side was in Hebrew, the other in English.

  Malachi Bloom

  Gemologist

  An address and phone number were printed underneath.

  Bolan wondered why Bloom’s card was sitting on that table in front of four dead men, but something else was bothering him, too.

  Grodovich... Diamonds... Hot rocks... Rad—

  Somehow, it was all coming back to diamonds.

  12

  The Diamond Quarter

  MALACHI BLOOM’S SHOP looked like it had been there forever. The windows were filthy, which might be one of the reasons no one had paid undue notice to what had occurred inside the shop. Bolan and Grimaldi stood near the door as more police and crime scene technicians shuffled through. Lupin had attempted several phone calls to the shop on their way there but had received no answer.