"He has twenty-five in his force. He calls it Yamaguchi's army."
"How many around the trailer?"
"Eighteen. Some more down the road. Three with trucks. But I know that four have deserted."
"Why didn't you go with your friends just now?"
"I... I... I got cold feet, I was so scared. They wouldn't let me go with them."
"What's your excuse now?"
The youth looked up sharply to see if Bolan was joking. The muzzle of the weapon had eased from his chest and now the angry-looking gun was at the big man's side.
"I can just walk away?"
"After you answer some more questions. Is Dr. Dunning still alive in the trailer?"
"Yes, Yamaguchi needs him."
"Yamaguchi had planned to take over the operation all along?"
"Yes, as soon as he knew Dr. Dunning was planning it."
"Who shot the guy who tried to walk away?"
"Yamaguchi. He told us he'd kill any deserters."
"Where are the next defensive holes?"
The boy pointed them out, and Bolan motioned him to slip into the woods. The Executioner wasn't worried that the youth might turn on him later. He had smelled the fear on the kid. From the hole in front of him Bolan found two more grenades. He hooked them onto his straps and moved forward.
A new sense of urgency drove him on. He knew that Yamaguchi would not sit still and wait twenty-four hours now that someone was outside shooting up his site. Yamaguchi would force their hand. Demand quicker payment, make some big splash.
A loudspeaker fractured the mountain silence.
"Attention! Attention! This message is for those forces now attacking our installation. If there is any more offensive firing, any more grenading or explosions, I will take the strongest possible measures. I don't make idle threats. If there are more attacks on my installation or my people, I will drop a bomb on Washington, D.C. Some people don't believe what I tell them. I'll let Dr. Dunning tell you why they should. He will let you know what we just did!"
The next voice was soft, low, distracted. But the words were clear.
"Within the past half hour the world was warned that if the delivery of the diamonds was not speeded up, a missile with a thermonuclear warhead would be dropped near Wake Island in the Pacific Ocean. Five minutes ago one of the MIRV weapons was detonated at sea level a hundred miles west of Wake Island. I did this at the demand of the man you know as Mr. Richman."
The air was silent for a moment, and a gleeful voice came over the speakers.
"You see! You aren't messing around with some fly-by-night beginner here. I've got an army. So if there is any more firing, any more offensive action, I'll drop a bomb on the nation's capital."
As soon as Bolan heard the threat he unsnapped the pouch on his web belt and took out the small transmitter. When the last words had faded from the speaker, Bolan turned on the small switch and pressed the red button.
The woods erupted with three explosions that came so close together they billowed into one gigantic roaring, pounding thunderclap and a brilliant flash. The two foxholes expanded to five times their size, and the Kenworth tractor ripped into three huge pieces and spread chunks of metal over half an acre. Luckily there was no fire from the nearly empty diesel tanks when they ruptured.
It was two minutes before the echoes from the blast finally ended in the canyons and valleys around them.
Bolan stood beside a big ponderosa at the edge of the darkness as close as he could work his way toward the partly open door of the trailer.
"Yamaguchi. I'm calling your hand!" Bolan shouted. "You're bluffing and we both know it. Now is the time for some hard negotiations. You'll notice none of your people are firing at me. Most of them are dead and some of the others deserted your army. The rest are wounded or hiding, scared to death.
"Now, I'll give you a break. I'm not the law so I don't care about your little extortion scam here. You come out of the trailer and leave Dr. Dunning alive, and I'll let you go right on walking toward the nearest highway with some of your men. You stay in there and you'll die the hard way."
There were a few moments of quiet, then the loudspeaker came back on.
"Now I know you are bluffing. My men are waiting for a killing shot as I have trained them. You will be the one dead. Soldiers of Yamaguchi, get this fast-talking bastard! The diamonds are on the way. They will be here just as soon as the chopper can pick up the goods at the Phoenix airport and fly in here. We will take care of this fast talker and then share the two hundred million dollars. Get that bastard out there!"
Only silence greeted his appeal.
"I warned you, Yamaguchi. If there are any remnants of the great Yamaguchi army, you now have free passage out of the area. Don't worry about Yamaguchi and his threat to shoot you. I'll keep him pinned down inside the trailer. You have two minutes to clear the area, starting now!"
Gunshots came from inside the trailer, evidently aimed out the partly open rear door. Bolan put two rounds from the Childers into the side of the trailer near the rear door, and the firing inside stopped. The shotgun slugs would not penetrate the trailer enough to do damage, but they cowed Yamaguchi.
"You have a minute and a half, and time's running out. If you are wounded, throw your weapons out of the hole, away from your position, and wave a white cloth, handkerchief, anything. You'll be attended to at daylight."
There was no sound for a few seconds. Then a voice shouted a question from Bolan's right. It was in Japanese. A voice answered from his left.
"Go!" Bolan called. "Get out of here and stay alive. This wild scheme won't work, so get out while you can."
Bolan listened. There were whispers, movements. Then a voice called.
"We're going. Keep him pinned down inside, whoever you are."
"How many are leaving?" Bolan called.
"Six, maybe seven. We're leaving three wounded."
They left, shadows in the night, moving with combat caution from cover to cover until they were out of the glare of the lights and into the friendly darkness.
"You're all alone, Yamaguchi. It's your move."
"The same as planned. I'm walking out of here in two minutes to meet the helicopter on the road below. I'll be carrying a gallon can of gasoline, and I'll have a .45 automatic trained on Dr. Dunning. You so much as breathe on me and the old man dies.
"The President has given orders that Dr. Dunning is a national treasure and his life must be protected at all costs. That includes the two hundred million in diamonds that I'm getting. So back off, bastard. You try and sharpshoot me and my dying act will be to kill Dunning. There's no way you can win this one."
Bolan's strategy was settled.
"Kitty," the Executioner called, hoping she could hear him. "Let them go. Remember Dr. Dunning still has to get that Russian MIRV back. If he dies, your government has lost it. Nobody else could figure the codes Dunning used. Let them go."
From ten feet away came Kitty's answer.
"All right, American, but soon we must capture both of them. I have the good plan. Will you listen?"
Bolan ran over to her and nodded. "I always listen to good plans, but we have to do it on the move. We have to get to the road and the possible landing site first. I don't think Uncle Sam is going to bring in those diamonds unescorted."
19
In the Oval Office, the President of the United States sat and watched his telephone. He had been alternately relieved and terrified during the past forty-eight hours. Now he was not sure how he felt. He had sent all of his advisors except his Russian translator out of the office.
The takeover of the hijack site by some mercenary had at first delighted everyone. Then the demands became known and the authorities had pulled strings and made deals to get the diamonds and transport them to the Houston area as quickly as possible.
The President felt a continuing anger that all of his scientific minds and their latest equipment could not triangulate the radio signals that the hijackers had used.
Getting a reading on it so quickly was nearly impossible, he was told at last. He had chewed tail for ten minutes, then ordered them to resolve the problem. Finding such signals had become a high-priority research project. Mr. Richman's threat to kill Dr. Dunning had put them into high gear. Someone had at last realized that Dunning held the key to getting back the MIRVs the rebel had captured. He alone knew the code to communicate with the computers on board the space vehicles. They were pleased about the end of the threat to blow up all of the MIRVs but were now nervous about the death threat against the only man who could get back the one U.S. MIRV that had been hijacked.
Two hundred million dollars was nothing compared to the value of the hardware they had in space. But his strong secretary of defense had assured the President that they would trade the diamonds for Dr. Dunning. There simply would be no deal if the man called Richman would not give up Dr. Dunning.
The President had been specific. At no point was Richman to be allowed to have the diamonds with Dr. Dunning as his insurance.
The hijacker had asked for a lot: a long-range helicopter and safe passage to Mexico. Once he got the gems and into the air, he would be blown to bits by a dozen patrolling Air Force jets high overhead. The chopper pilot had been instructed to stay at one thousand feet and parachute from the bird at the first fly-by by an Air Force fighter.
It struck the President as being odd that the spotters could not pick up the Mogolion Rim area on their scanners. There was something about a hill lighted up like a Christmas tree, but somehow that got lost in the confusion.
When he got Dunning back he would have a conference with him and convince him that his talent was still needed in the government. Hell, they could create a special commission for him to work on whatever he wanted to. That would let them protect him and at the same time monitor what he was doing. There would be a mole inside his office, of course.
And once they had the scientist back they would also have a big bargaining chip with the Russian Premier. Then they could ask for a lot from the Soviets to get their MIRV missile back.
Wake Island. He would have to send a team into the area to test for radioactivity, make some money available for the island itself for constant observation and scientific evaluation of the effects of the bomb. It would not be easy, but he could handle it.
Getting Dr. Dunning back alive was the big key to this one. The President hoped Jensen could handle it. Damn, he sure as hell hoped so.
* * *
Kitty had not wanted to jog through the woods to the forestry road that led them to the trailer site. But she had relented after some protests. The Executioner had outlined his plans as they ran. Bolan wondered what other plots she had. The woman had been too cooperative lately. Bolan guessed she had her own set of schemes that she was holding for the right moment.
Once Bolan heard that Uncle Sam was bringing the diamonds here to the mountain for the pickup, he knew Yamaguchi had made a big mistake. Given a delivery point, the military would have it well socked in with security people long before the meeting. That meant they might be there already. They could come in from Phoenix or military test ranges over by Yuma, or choppers from Alamogordo's White Sands Proving Grounds.
Time, that was the controlling factor. Would they have time enough to set up? A flyover and para drop would be simple and quickest, but they needed more. Bolan and Kitty moved more slowly through the edge of the wooded section, leaving the roadway when it entered the open valley area where the helicopter would land. Bolan decided the gasoline Yamaguchi said he carried could be for a human torch threat as well as a signal flare to let the chopper pilot know exactly where to set down.
It was still dark, with hours yet until dawn.
At the center of the half-mile-long valley, Bolan stopped. He surveyed the area critically, but could see no evidence of anyone present. He was about to circle the meadow for a closer look when he heard it. At first he was not sure, then the faint rotor throb was unmistakable. It had to be a military chopper, with troops and backup, for pursuit if needed.
Bolan felt that it would be needed, but he wanted to be in the chase bird.
"Must be one of Yamaguchi's helicopters coming in to take him and the diamonds out. I'll try to capture it. You stay here and keep watch for Yamaguchi. My guess is he'll trade Dunning for the diamonds."
Bolan watched the dark silhouette of the chopper hovering at the far end of the meadow, as far away from the trailer as possible. Only one small probing light was on to let the pilot know how far he was from the ground. There had been no running lights, no strobes on the bird. Now he was sure it was a military aircraft. It was in combat mode.
Bolan started to move, trying for his usual running pace, but the pain in his leg now drove needles through the thigh and would not stop. He slowed to a jog and watched the pilot do a fine job of night landing. As soon as his wheels touched the meadow he shut it down. They had landed as near to the trees as possible, then two men jumped out and pushed the craft toward the pines.
By that time Bolan was close enough to hear them talking. Both were military.
"The other bird is only half an hour behind us. If we get away with the sound, this Mr. Richman shouldn't have any idea we're here."
The second man nodded, wiped sweat from his forehead and put a peaked cap back on. "I'll be ready when I get your word. We're hoping on a one-shot mission. This little bird isn't equipped for a long chase."
Bolan watched the second man reach inside the chopper, take out something, wave and walk into the woods toward Bolan's position.
The Executioner slid from one tree to another until he was directly in front of the walker. The Childers came up, and Bolan stepped out from behind a piñon when the man was six feet away.
"Hold it! I've got a combat shotgun trained on you, but I'm friendly."
The man froze.
"Lay the long gun on the ground. Sit down and cross your legs, then lace your hands on top of your head."
The man did as directed. "How many tours of Nam did you have? i was there, too."
"I said I was a friend. You're here to waste Yamaguchi, also known as Mr. Richman?"
"One shot is all I need. Laser sighting. Seems almost like cheating. I blow away this Mr. Richman and we take Dr. Dunning back up the hill to get our MIRV back. Who the hell are you?"
"You won't have a chance to waste Yamaguchi, which is Mr. Richman's real name. He has a can of gasoline and a .45 in the scientist's gut. You kill one, you waste two."
"No way. I only do head shots."
"Ever heard of the spasm-reaction of fingers after killing head shots? You head shoot Yamaguchi and you waste two at once. So, we play by my rules."
"Kill me?"
"I told you I'm on your side, so don't try to be a hero. Your plan just won't play." Bolan knew it would not work to reason with this one. He brought the barrel of the Childers down across the sharpshooter's head hard enough to knock him out. The man fell into the weeds and pine mulch. Bolan tied him with line from a roll of forty-pound monofilament fishing line. Someone would find him later.
Bolan was nearly back to the center of the valley when he heard the second chopper coming in. There was no sign of Yamaguchi and Dunning. Then a hundred yards away in the middle of the meadow, a flame shot up, then lowered and remained steady. The burning gasoline was providing a convenient marker for the helicopter.
The chopper had full lights on and now swiveled stream lights toward the ground, picked out the two men and came down slowly fifty feet away. The backwash whipped at the gasoline flame, almost extinguishing it.
In the landing lights Bolan saw that Yamaguchi had Dunning covered with a pistol as they walked in tandem toward the chopper. As the aircraft's engine shut down, Yamaguchi screamed at the bird's pilot.
"Everyone out! I know there are three men on board. Send everyone out and then come out yourself. No tricks or you'll be a hearse with dead bodies to haul."
Two men ran from the chopper, and a third cam
e out more slowly.
"Pilot, stand. You two, flat on the ground on your faces, arms over your heads."
Bolan ran silently through the grass, the Childers up and ready. The darkness masked his presence. But the same problem remained that he had told the marksman: there was no way to win with that .45 still jammed into Dr. Dunning's side. The Executioner would wait for an opening.
The pilot remained where he was but the other two dropped into the grass.
"Where in hell are the diamonds?"
"Inside, the way you instructed. I'm to fly you to Mexico," the pilot said. "You get the diamonds and safe passage into Mexico, and Dr. Dunning stays here. That's our deal. You agreed."
"Tough shit. I just changed the program. All three of us are going to Mexico. The old man is my only insurance. You know it and I know it and the President knows it. Come here."
The pilot walked toward Yamaguchi. Bolan could move no closer without giving away his position in the spill of the lights.
"Pilot, you walk behind me as we back into the chopper. You got that?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then do it!"
Bolan watched in growing despair as the trio moved into the helicopter, giving him no shot. At once the outer door swung shut, and Bolan knew the rig would be leaving with the diamonds and with Dr. Dunning.
He had to keep the chopper on the ground.
The engine rumbled to life, the whine began and Bolan raised the Childers automatic shotgun, aiming at the rear rotor area. He triggered a blast, then two more, but already the bird was starting to roll forward. He emptied the magazine into the rotor, but the bird had lifted out of effective range of the shotgun.
The two men on the ground were surprised by Bolan's firing, and started to stand up. "Stay down," Bolan yelled. "You'll be picked up later."
Then he ran toward the smaller helicopter, which was now moving toward him, skimming the grass. It set down and a moment later the door popped open and Bolan scrambled inside. He caught the surprise on the pilot's face.
"As you can-tell, the hit didn't work. Now we've got to see how far that bird up there will fly with its tail-rotor assembly shot up. You better tell the Air Force not to fire on the chopper — Dr. Dunning is on board."
Orbiting Omega Page 13