War Everlasting (Superbolan)

by Don Pendleton

  The ringing in Bolan’s ears took a minute or so to subside. He ignored it as he frisked the body for identification, lifted what papers he found, then set about the task of rigging the joint to blow. Being in the kitchen would make it simple enough. The Executioner located several propane storage tanks and packed them with C-4 plastique from his satchel. He primed the high explosive for detonation on a timer and set it to eight minutes, then made his exit out the rear and circled back to the spot between the two houses where he’d left his motorcycle.

  As Bolan expected, the reinforcements arrived right on schedule—it looked to be a mix of civilian vehicles along with an Adak police vehicle. As the collection got out of their cars, the club suddenly went up in a massive blast and a whoosh of red-orange flame that had to reach heights of a hundred feet or better. Under the cover of the explosion, fire and secondary blasts, Bolan kick-started the motorcycle to life, and within thirty seconds he’d departed the area completely unobserved.

  He’d sent his first message to Davis Haglemann. Now it was time to wait for the reply.

  Stony Man Farm, Virginia

  “THE RUSSIAN BUSINESS NETWORK?” When Barbara Price nodded, Hal Brognola shook his head. “I knew we hadn’t heard the last of them, but I didn’t think they had these kinds of capabilities.”

  “Frankly, Hal, neither did I,” Bolan replied. “Godunov and his cronies demonstrated they had significant resources when they tried to take down Wall Street. But in order for them to pull off something like this, they’d have to be in bed with members of the Russian government. And they’re apparently in bed with Davis Haglemann, too. They come and go here on Adak as they please.”

  “Barb,” Brognola said, “what’s the Russian government’s official position on the RBN?”

  “Well, of course, they officially disavow any relationship with them, although they’ve never officially taken any sort of direct stance.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, such as declaring them a terrorist organization, for one. The RBN started as more of a cyber-crime organization than any other. They would stand up internet services and hosting for just about any criminal organization around the world, be it identity theft, child porn, financial scams or whatever. But their organization has since grown.”

  “Any evidence they’re linked to the Russian government in some way?”

  Price smiled. “You mean outside the president’s ties to St. Petersburg?”

  “Intelligence I picked up over time indicates members within the RBN might have ties to high-ranking politicians within the Kremlin,” Bolan said. “In fact, those ties could be familial.”

  “Not to mention there’s strong evidence they’ve got their hooks into the FSB,” Price added. “Their alleged Storm network is still active, and it’s said to be growing more powerful all the time.”

  “Is there a chance they could have used that to attack our military assets?” Brognola asked.

  “Better than a chance,” a new voice interjected.

  Brognola and Price turned to see Aaron “the Bear” Kurtzman wheel into the room. The man may not have had use of his legs, but that wrestler-like body was as strong and solid as it looked, and the mind within a cornucopia of information and intelligence. Kurtzman’s technical genius, coupled with the keen combined intellect of his crack cybernetics team members, had saved the lives of all the field operatives for Stony Man at one time or another, not to mention proving an effective tool in the Executioner’s own private war against terrorism.

  “Sorry for my tardiness,” Kurtzman said. “But as soon as I got Striker’s coded message I began to dig into the latest happenings by our Russian friends.”

  “What have you got?” Bolan asked.

  “There’s little reason to doubt the Storm network couldn’t pull off something like this,” Kurtzman said. “Of course, it’s not like they’ve left a clear trail of bread crumbs for us.”

  “But you think they did use their systems to sabotage US military targets?” Bolan asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Can you explain how they managed to do it?” Price said.

  “Possibly, although it would be mere speculation,” Kurtzman said. “Mind you, I have no proof yet, and I don’t know that I can get any.”

  “Speculate, anyway,” Bolan suggested. “I’d like to have some idea of what we’re up against, so I know how to respond.”

  “Okay. In a nutshell, I think they used a wireless network to jam communications between various military stations and the missing assets. How they managed to do this, I can’t really tell you yet. Like I say, they didn’t leave any sort of trail.”

  “Okay, so they jammed communications,” Brognola said. “But to what ends? Did they destroy the vessels or merely abscond with them? And if the latter scenario, how were they able to make something as big as a plane or Coast Guard cutter disappear into thin air?”

  “I don’t think they did,” Kurtzman replied. “I mean naturally, you can’t just make something that size fall off the proverbial radar with magic. But by cutting communications in an area as remote as the Bering Sea, they’ve killed the lifeblood of effective operations. If vessels and planes can’t talk to one another, that’s a big problem.”

  “Agreed,” Price said.

  “So they cut off communications and then what?” Bolan asked. “Crashed the plane? Blew it out of the sky? Landed it remotely on some neighboring island?”

  “Any of the above,” Kurtzman said.

  A deathly silence enveloped the room.

  “That kind of technology would be dangerous enough in the hands of a legitimate military force,” Brognola stated. “In the hands of terrorists, it’s unthinkable.”

  “It is definitely too great a threat to ignore,” Price said.

  She looked at Brognola. “Hal?”

  “Ordinarily I’d run this by the Man first,” Brognola said. “Get his take on it before committing to any kind of action. But this time around, Striker, you’re where we are not and able to take action. And it seems you already have a handle on what’s going on from what you’ve told us so far. I’m inclined to go with whatever operational objectives you propose at this point.”

  “If the RBN has a technology even remotely capable of doing what Aaron’s just said, it’s critical we find and destroy it as soon as possible.”

  “And how do you best think you can accomplish that?” Brognola asked.

  “I sent a message to Haglemann earlier this morning,” Bolan said. “I thought the best tactic would be to wait for his response to see if I could get on the inside of the organization. Now, I don’t think we have that kind of time. I think they crashed that plane and I think they sank the Llewellyn. And if they boarded the cutter before sinking it, they might have taken hostages.”

  “What makes you think so?” Price asked.

  “Well, cutting communications is all well and good,” Bolan said. “But in order to be effective, they would have needed a way to actually take control of those assets once they jammed communications. That means a physical means of some type to commit the sabotage, whether sneaking a transceiver aboard or uploading some sort of computer virus.”

  “So you think they had someone’s cooperation.”

  “Exactly. Specifically, someone on Haglemann’s payroll.”

  “It sounds as if you have a plan already forming,” Brognola said.

  “I do. And if the RBN’s responsible for killing hundreds of service personnel, I’m going to make it my personal business to wipe them out. Permanently.”

  “You’ll have our full support, then, Striker,” Brognola said. “Get these bastards where they live, and do what you do best.”

  “You can bet on it, Hal.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Adak Island

 
As soon as Bolan arrived at Maddie Corsack’s house, she ushered him. “I was so worried about you.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There was trouble at Davis Haglemann’s club this morning. Big trouble. Somebody torched the place. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”

  “I might,” Bolan said. “But why worry about me?”

  “Lustrum called. He said he wanted to offer you that job and told me to get in touch with you. I’m supposed to let him know as soon as I reached you.”

  “Funny thing to have his attention when his boss’s club just went up in smoke,” Bolan replied. “Don’t you think?”

  “I guess.”

  Bolan nodded. “What else did he say?”

  “Nothing much. Just that when I got hold of you to have you come here and he’d meet you.”

  “It’s a setup.”

  “Why would it be? I thought your objective was to get inside Haglemann’s organization. Isn’t this what you wanted to happen?”

  “In spite of the fact I tried to be careful, they figured out I was behind what happened at the club,” Bolan said. “Lustrum choosing now to reach out to me was no coincidence.”

  “So why would he reach out to me?”

  “He’s betting on your allegiance to him and Haglemann, maybe? I don’t know.”

  “Fat chance!” she replied with a snort. “Lustrum knows damn well there’s no love lost between me and Davis, that’s for sure.”

  “Well, then he may be gunning for you, too.”

  “Wait. What do you mean by that?”

  “His wanting you to call him when I arrive here is a possible pretext for killing you, as well.”

  “Now wait a minute, Blansky. Lustrum’s a pain in the ass, maybe, but he’s no cold-blooded killer.”

  “You need to open your eyes, Corsack,” Bolan said. “Maybe Lustrum isn’t a killer, but he’s got killers working for him. And those men I encountered at the club were working alongside a terrorist organization known as the Russian Business Network. Ever heard of them?”

  Corsack shook her head.

  “Well, I don’t have time to go into all of the particulars. What I can tell you is they’re not a nice bunch. They’re terrorists, very adept at committing cyber-crimes like child pornography and identity theft. A few years ago, they tried to make a play for America’s financial infrastructure. I can’t go into details, but I can tell you that they have the resources to pull it off, and I barely came through it when I stopped them once before. Now, they might have been responsible for the deaths of countless military personnel. And I can assure you, I won’t let that go unanswered.”

  Corsack sat slowly on her couch and put her head in her hands. She let out a soft moan, and when she looked up, her eyes were pooled with tears. “I don’t believe this. I mean, I knew Lustrum and Haglemann were no angels, but I didn’t think they would do anything like this.”

  “Most of the people on Adak probably didn’t, either,” Bolan said gently. “This isn’t your fault, Corsack. No matter how in tune you might be with this community, you couldn’t have seen this coming. Nobody could.”

  Corsack wiped the tears from her face, then rose and headed to the coffeepot. She poured herself a cup, offered one to Bolan, who accepted, then appeared to come to a decision.

  “I may not agree with everything you’re doing,” she said. “I might not even say I believe what you’ve told me about Lustrum and Haglemann. But I do know you’re not a cold-blooded murderer or a liar. So I guess that’s going to have to be good enough. For now.”

  “So you’ll help me?”

  She nodded. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

  “First, call Lustrum and let him know I’m here and we’re waiting.”

  “But I thought you said it was a trap, that they’d come for you.”

  “That’s exactly what I want them to do. I’ve started to shake them up, and I want to keep them off balance. It’s the only way to get to Haglemann, and Haglemann is my ticket to finding out where the RBN is holed up.”

  “It’s definitely not here on Adak. I can tell you that much.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Bolan said. “But I don’t know where they’re operating, and Haglemann’s probably the only one that has the information.”

  “What about Lustrum?”

  Bolan shook his head and frowned. “Doubtful. Lustrum’s a lackey, despite what he might want everyone to think.”

  “Possibly,” Corsack agreed. “But one thing he isn’t is stupid. There’s no way he’s going to believe I’d set up a friend.”

  “Well, then, you’re just going to have to sound really convincing when you call him. I gathered from your conversation last night that you’ve got a little bit of leverage.”

  The remark produced a laugh from Corsack. “Hardly! Oh, he’s got a little crush on me, I suppose. I let him take me out to dinner once—at Haglemann’s club, as a matter of fact. But that’s the extent of it.”

  “Maybe it’s time to play that card in your favor.”

  “Only if you think there’s no other way.”

  “I don’t know if there’s any other way of not arousing his suspicions,” Bolan said. “But you could tell him you have information about the hit on the club. And you could tell him you think I have something to do with it, and you don’t think it’s right I should get away with it.”

  “In other words, make it sound like you used me.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But isn’t that really what you’re doing, anyway, Blansky? I mean, I’m not an idiot. I know you’re asking me to turn on the only real life I’ve ever known.”

  “Listen, Corsack,” Bolan said. “You’ve already done more than your fair share to help these people. I don’t believe you’re so naive you don’t know how things work in the real world. Just make sure that whatever you do you’re doing it for the right reasons, the reasons that make sense. Personally, I won’t ask more of anybody than that.”

  “Fair enough,” Corsack said. “Now I’d best make that call.”

  Bolan nodded. “We’ll be ready.”

  * * *

  THREE VEHICLES, A LIMO with one sedan in the lead and another bringing up the rear, pulled to the curb in front of Corsack’s house less than thirty minutes after she made the call.

  Bolan had to admit he hadn’t expected them quite that soon, but he was ready for them all the same. He made a quick count, peering at them through the corner of the curtain, and then keyed the small microphone with an earpiece. “Striker to Eagle.”

  “Go, Striker.”

  “They’re here,” Bolan said. “Make some noise.”

  “Roger that.”

  A moment later, a flash caught Bolan’s eye and a flaming trail made an arc high into the air before bursting into a flash of light that lit the gray morning sky. The starburst surprised the half-dozen or so men who had emerged from the sedans, and they involuntarily reached for firearms beneath their jackets. As with the crew at Haglemann’s club, Bolan knew that these men weren’t equipped to take on somebody like him.

  Grimaldi followed the starburst round with a hail of autofire, the rounds chewing up the ground around the men while not actually hitting any of them. Bolan checked his watch and counted down thirty seconds before bringing his own autorifle into action. He ordered Corsack to stay on the floor one last time, then climbed to his feet and headed for the front entrance. He waited until he heard a lull in the firing, then burst through the front door, leveling his weapon and triggering several volleys on the run. When he reached the closest man who was prone on the ground, he grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him to his feet.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Bolan demanded. “Get behind some cover!”

  Another vo
lley of rounds chewed up dirt near Bolan’s feet, and the Executioner forced back the grin. He hoped Grimaldi’s aim was off from his usual accuracy. The Stony Man flier might have held down a primary job as a pilot, but he was also a trained and experienced combatant when the need arose and had proven as much time and again.

  Bolan came upon a second guy. It was Lustrum. He tugged the guy to his feet the same as the first. He half dragged, half carried the older man along with him as he triggered another volley in Grimaldi’s general direction. Bolan reached one of the vehicles, a limousine, with his prospective employer and none too gently shoved the man into the backseat.

  “Get the others and let’s go!” Bolan ordered.

  A few of the men had pulled pistols, but nobody fired since they couldn’t really tell where the shots were coming from. The man looked as if he might challenge Bolan, but when Lustrum started screaming at him to take action, the guy opted to shout orders for his men to withdraw. They could argue the virtues of who was in charge later. The guy verified that the men had returned to their vehicles before jumping into the seat facing Bolan and Lustrum. Within a few seconds, they were secure and speeding from the scene with a screech of tires and smoking rubber.

  Lustrum pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and mopped his brow. He then looked at Bolan who sat in the seat next to him. The Executioner ejected the magazine of blank rounds, made a show of inspecting them, then slammed it home once more.

  “What the hell was that about?” Lustrum asked.

  “You tell me,” Bolan said.

  “You mean...you didn’t... The club, that wasn’t you?”

  “No,” Bolan replied simply.

  “There’s been a big mistake, Blansky. A big mistake!”

  “Meaning?”

  “We thought for sure you were the one who hit the club.”

  Bolan shook his head. “I knew you had me pegged from the start, Mr. Lustrum.”

  “Huh? Whad’ya mean by that?”

  “You figured out I wasn’t just some local looking for honest work.”