As the pops died from the suppressor on his weapon, Bolan heard the shuffle of feet. He turned and knelt. The air where he’d been standing a moment before came alive with a full-auto burst. He tracked his weapon on to a point just below the muzzle-flashes. The weapons used by his enemy had flash suppressors but apparently they weren’t the style designed for CQB, and they pinpointed location with deadly accuracy when aided by NVDs. The soldier triggered a sustained burst. The enemy gun ceased firing, and the body of the gunner crumpled to the floor a moment later.
Bolan held his position and tracked the area in front of him. He then swept to his left flank and right, looking for the fourth target, but no threat emerged. After a full two minutes of waiting, the Executioner slowly rose from position and began to search the area. Eventually, he found the fourth man who had apparently taken a large part of the grenade blast, because his stomach looked as if it had been torn open. The soldier moved on, pulling the NVDs from his face just before he emerged into the daylight of Unalaska. There were still a number of buildings to search, although he was confident he’d done a good job of chipping away at the RBN forces in this location. A dozen or so had first assaulted them at the docks, and Bolan was aware he’d neutralized nearly all of that force. An entire army could have been hidden here, but he doubted the Russian terrorists had that kind of manpower. After all, there was evidence to support the theory a Russian sub had smuggled them into the region, and that would have severely limited their numbers.
No, they’d have just enough to get the job done. Whatever else the RBN had planned, it wouldn’t involve a big group. If Vladimir Moscovich was in charge of this little shindig, and Bolan had little reason to doubt otherwise at this point, Moscovich fit the profile of a guy who would martyr himself for the cause no matter what sort of lunacy that might seem. In any case, Shaffernik would soon arrive with reinforcements, and Bolan knew he still had targets to locate.
Yeah, the numbers were running down, and the Executioner planned to make sure it was a doomsday countdown for his enemies.
* * *
ALEXEI VIZHGAIL FELT a cold lump in his throat as he looked at the worried expressions of what remained of his team. Five men. That’s what he had to complete the operation. It wouldn’t be enough, and so now he was left with the only option available. They would have to cut their losses and attempt an escape, right under the nose of the American dog who had proven himself a cunning and deadly opponent.
Vizhgail had never considered himself a man afraid to die, but that didn’t make much difference at this point. If they hoped to escape with their lives intact and still provide enough of a distraction that Vlad Moscovich could complete his part of the operation, they would have to abandon their efforts with the cutter. So far they had stripped the vessel of a good number of pieces of vital equipment they would take with them and deliver to their own military intelligence people.
If we survive, Vizhgail thought.
“Take a look around,” he told his men. “What you see is all that remains of our team. The rest are on Semisop and will hold things in place until the submarine comes to get them. Our communications equipment has also been destroyed, so I cannot raise Vlad or Benyamin. And soon our enemies will engage us.”
Kirillov, one of Vizhgail’s lieutenants who had a bad leg wound and had been dragged to safety, gasped, “There’s only one man. Surely...that does not equate to being surrounded.”
“Would that be the one man who managed to wound you and kill another of our men?” Vizhgail asked. “Or the same man who destroyed the club belonging to that dog, Haglemann? And need I remind you that the detachment I sent to ambush this American has neither returned nor reported in yet? We’re through, men! We have nothing left to fight for and very little resources to fight with. Our action is a holding action, then, and our mission is to attempt to escape and rejoin the others.”
“How will we do this, sir?” Anatoly Bruschev asked.
Vizhgail shook his head. “The rest of you are going to leave. I’ll stay behind to distract the Americans. While they’re occupied with my plan, you will use the motor launch we brought here to escape.”
Bruschev started to open his mouth as if to protest but then shut it. Vizhgail couldn’t help but sympathize, despite the fact he didn’t really hold out hope for any of them to survive. He already considered his own life forfeit, and chances were the Americans had already begun a process of closing the noose. All they could do now was salvage the situation and implement survival rules.
“What about the ship?” Andrei Polakoff asked. “Should we sink it?”
Vizhgail shook his head. “We’re out of time. And we don’t have the ordnance to do so even if we had time. No, you have your instructions. Take the tech we salvaged off the cutter and head for the launch. And do it now—you’ll need extra time with Kirillov injured. Bind his wound. He looks like he’s about to bleed out.”
The men looked hesitant but eventually broke away and prepared for their departure. Even as the darkness of the building swallowed them up, Alexei Vizhgail had already set about the task of preparing for his encounter with the American. If this was the man who had taken down the Godunov-Nasenko regime, Vizhgail would consider it an honor to die bringing him down once and for all.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Adak Island
“How does this happen?” Davis Haglemann demanded. “Can somebody tell me how the hell this happens?”
Otto Lustrum stood frozen in place and tried to keep his knees from shaking. Blast it all, but he didn’t like this rich, entitled shit, anyway! He never really had. He didn’t like the way Haglemann made him feel, and he didn’t like the guy’s business practices. When Haglemann had appointed Lustrum foreman over the entire labor force on Adak, the veteran dockworker had been indecently grateful. He’d built a thriving community of devoted workers and taken very little for himself. Oh, sure, so maybe he’d pinched a few bucks here and there in his gambling operation, but who the hell cared? Everybody got his or her entertainment, and he collected a cut of the action for providing it. He was a businessman just like Haglemann. It’s not like the two were that much different.
“You were supposed to keep an eye on this guy!” Haglemann snapped. “Now he’s probably dead, and that leaves my ass hanging out there in the wind. Well, frankly, I’m not looking to get my head blown off just because you’re an idiot!”
“Davis, try to understand,” Lustrum pleaded. “We put some guys on Blansky just like you asked. How were we supposed to know the psychopath he was supposed to be protecting you from would take him out?”
“You shoulda known!” Haglemann slammed his beefy fist on his desk. “You shoulda goddamn well known it. Now I’m up shit creek without a paddle. Well, you be sure this fuck-up isn’t going to go unnoticed, Otto. I’ve got to hire on extra security to watch my ass because you couldn’t do this one simple thing.”
“What I want to know is, what’s the story with these guys you’re doing business with? Why all the intrigue?”
“Intrigue? Jeez, Lustrum, have you lost your mind? This isn’t the 1950s, you know. The cold war is over! I can do business with whomever I like! And anyway, that’s none of your concern. You work for me.”
“I work for the people!” Lustrum said. “My people, which are obviously not anybody you care about, Davis.”
“You get the hell out of here, Otto! Get the hell out!” Haglemann pointed toward the door of his office. “You get out of here and don’t ever let me see your face again, or it will be the last time. You understand?”
Lustrum started to open his mouth and then clamped down on his words at the last second. The five men who moved off station were very large and all armed. They were top-shelf protectors hired a long time ago as Haglemann’s personal security force, and they were mean customers. Lustrum was getting on in years, and he doubted he could b
est even one of these men, let alone all five.
“That’s fine, Davis. But understand this—we’re through and double through. Whatever shit comes down from this, don’t come crawling to me. You’re on your own!”
“Get the fuck out of here!” Haglemann screamed with such apoplexy Lustrum thought the guy might throw a clot right there.
Lustrum left the house, jumped into the backseat of his limo and fumed all the way down the winding drive that led from Haglemann’s estate. It would sure as hell be the last time he darkened the guy’s door, of that much he was certain. It was also a given he’d be cut off from any additional money or resources. It was a good thing he’d managed to bank a large part of it in offshore securities. Lustrum had to wonder if it was time to leave Adak Island. He was tired, and the past forty-eight hours it seemed as if everything had gone to hell.
The other problem was this Mike Blansky. Lustrum wondered if the guy was more trouble than he was worth when Maddie Corsack had first introduced them—his gut had told him there was something off about the guy. Blansky had killed Rov, who Lustrum now suspected wasn’t everything he appeared to be, either. That wasn’t half as disturbing as Zakoff, the guy he’d assigned to work with the boys who oversaw club security. Whoever had taken them out was a professional, and Lustrum was beginning to wonder why there’d been so much trouble since Blansky had shown up on the island.
There was somebody who could shed light on that particular subject, and Lustrum had decided even as he left Haglemann’s he wanted to talk to that someone. It was time to have a long heart-to-heart with Corsack and get to the bottom of this whole thing. Lustrum had already lost at least a dozen men, decent and hardworking men with wives and, in a few cases, even a kid or two. How was he supposed to explain that? Haglemann had originally promised the widows would be taken care of, but how did Lustrum know that? Especially now that he was on the outs with the labor boss. The idea of reconciliation was unlikely—Haglemann wasn’t known to be a forgiving man.
But Lustrum still had a few cards up his sleeve. Besides, he didn’t think anyone had broken the news about Blansky to Corsack. He’d thought about waiting since they hadn’t yet confirmed Blansky was dead, given it would take some time to identify the bodies. All of them had been severely burned by the explosion. But they had found the charbroiled remains of several men around the two damaged vehicles, one of them the Hummer Blansky had borrowed from Haglemann. Chances were pretty good the mysterious Mike Blansky was dead.
Lustrum didn’t know the exact nature of Corsack’s relationship with the guy, but he was betting it was romantic. She might not take the news too well. Still, Blansky had saved Lustrum’s life, and he at least owed the guy that much if nothing else. And once he’d gotten it straight in his mind, Otto Lustrum would decide his next move.
* * *
“DEAD?” CORSACK REPEATED in a choked whisper. “Are you sure?”
Otto Lustrum folded his hands and tried to look as contrite as possible. Corsack wasn’t sure she bought it—hell, she wasn’t much sure of anything anymore. It was possible this was just another trick. Things had transpired very quickly over the past twenty-four hours. It was possible Lustrum had discovered Blansky was behind the attack on the club, or maybe even Haglemann. Perhaps it was really Lustrum who’d murdered Blansky, and now he was just trying to cover his own ass. But to what ends? He didn’t need Corsack’s help or support, so he wouldn’t benefit from lying to her.
None of it made sense. The pilot she knew only as Jack had left on very short notice, claiming to have been in direct contact with Blansky. He’d gone off in a hurry to help the big guy, in fact. Had he been too late? And if Blansky really was dead, as Lustrum was now telling her, what had happened to Jack? Why hadn’t he returned to her? Had he been killed, as well?
No, it just didn’t make any sense to Corsack at all.
“We don’t have all the facts yet, but it doesn’t look good,” Lustrum said. “It’s going to take the coroner a lot of time to identify the remains. There were four bodies on the scene. I’m sure at least a couple of those guys are our own people.”
“Why?” Corsack asked. “Why would they have been our people, Otto?”
Lustrum shook his head. “I was just following Davis Haglemann’s orders. He was the one who told me to keep my eye on Blansky.”
“Did he suspect Mike of something wrong?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. Just the opposite, in fact. He told me Blansky was about the only guy he trusted. Said Blansky was some kind of friend to some of Mr. Haglemann’s associates...or something like that. I don’t know. The details are fuzzy! And as usual, Haglemann keeps me in the dark half the time!”
Lustrum sighed, and Corsack could see he was conflicted. She’d never believed he was guilty of all the horrible things for which Blansky accused him. She’d meant what she said about the people on Adak Island. They were generally good people who were struggling to make the best of a very difficult situation. Some had wondered why anybody would want to ever live in such a remote place, but after having spent so many years there, Corsack didn’t wonder. All told, life was pretty simple on Adak, and when things were going right it was a good place to be.
Corsack came to her decision, took a deep breath to calm her nerves and charged in. “Blansky isn’t who you think he is. Or maybe he wasn’t... I don’t know.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Davis,” Corsack said, fighting back the tears as the impact of what she’d heard about Blansky’s potential demise set in. “You’ve chosen some pretty poor allies in your time, Otto.”
“You mean in Haglemann?”
Corsack nodded, and now the tears started a steady fall down her cheeks. “Davis is a crook and a filthy traitor.”
“Traitor to what?” Lustrum said, abruptly taken aback by Corsack’s reaction. “What has he done?”
“He’s a traitor to you and me and everybody here on Adak. It was Blansky who destroyed Haglemann’s club, and it was Blansky who set up the ambush here. He had to do it!”
“Who is he?”
“Some kind of secret agent with the government? CIA, maybe, or Special Forces? I don’t know for sure. But what I do know is he’s one of the good guys,” Corsack replied.
“And how do you know that?”
“Because since I met him the bad guys have been trying to kill him. Don’t blame him, Otto, and please, forgive me for betraying you. I didn’t want to believe it at first, but Blansky was able to show me proof Davis is working with these Russian terrorists or whatever they are.”
The dawning light of realization began to spread across Lustrum’s face, as if he’d always known. He’d been aware that everything wasn’t on the level with Haglemann’s business, but he’d turned a blind eye to that out of greed. Something definitely changed in his expression at that point, his posture becoming a bit stiffer and his lips tightening as he came to the conclusion that nothing was as it had appeared to him.
“Are you telling me it was Blansky who all this time has been killing these good men?”
“That’s just the point, Otto. It isn’t Blansky who killed them. Yeah, okay, sure, maybe he pulled the trigger, but he sure isn’t the one who led them to do it. They killed themselves because of their own faulty decisions.”
“That’s bullshit, Maddie, and you know it!”
“Is it, Otto? Is it really all that hard to understand? You and so many of your friends, you sold out to Davis Haglemann a long time ago. You are the ones who decided to look the other way while he lied and cheated his way into being nominated the head of the union. How else could he have risen to power so quickly? You know as well as I do that nobody can do what Haglemann’s done, or get as far as he’s gotten, without the people of Adak Island backing them. You know that!”
“You took the money,
too, Maddie,” Lustrum grumbled.
Corsack nodded slowly and tried to swallow the bitter truth of his words. “Yes, I took his filthy money. And I’m so ashamed of it now. I’m ashamed to have taken one red cent from Davis Haglemann. But I was broken and scarred after my husband died. I deserved that money—I had it coming to me for the sacrifices I made. But if I could, Otto, if I could, I’d give back every dime now.”
“I’m ashamed to admit it, but so would I,” Lustrum said. He looked wistfully and unseeingly, just so he didn’t have to meet Corsack’s shaken gaze. “I’m a frustrated, tired, broken-down old man, Maddie girl. I’ve done a lot of really bad stuff in my life.”
“You can find forgiveness,” Corsack interjected. “You can make it right.”
Lustrum snorted. “I don’t want forgiveness. Forgiveness is completely subjective, Maddie. What I want is to kill Blansky, but that got taken away from me. So I guess I’ll have to settle for killing Davis instead.”
“And then what, Otto?” Corsack protested. “Are you going to run away and leave the rest of us here to pick up the pieces? Is that your answer? Commit cold-blooded murder and then just run away? Because if that’s your plan, you’d best remember that you’ll be running for the rest of your life. Is that what you want? Is that the kind of man you want to be? You can’t keep running forever, Otto. Because sooner or later, it’s going to catch up to you. You will catch up to yourself!”
Lustrum didn’t meet her gaze at first. When he did finally look her in the eyes, his face appeared more gaunt and haggard than she’d ever recalled it before. He was truly rotting inside, having sold his soul to Haglemann—a man who sucked the life out of everybody he encountered and didn’t care what it cost them—without giving thought to the consequences he would reap.
War Everlasting (Superbolan) Page 14