Perilous Cargo

by Don Pendleton

  “Please call me if you need anything,” Soong said. “I am at your disposal.”

  “A simple thing, really, would be helpful,” he said.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, please ask your men to back off Vitaly. He’ll be heading for the warehouse, where he’s expecting a convoy to be ready to leave and where the last of his men were supposed to be waiting for him. I don’t want him getting any ideas about going somewhere else.”

  “A simple enough request, Felicks,” Soong replied. “I will tell my men to back off. I don’t want them getting killed in whatever it is you have planned for him. What about the Americans, whoever they are? Do you want them stopped?”

  Kolodoka considered this for a moment, then shook his head. “No, tell your men to let them pass. I have a use for them, I think.”

  * * *

  KOLODOKA BOWED AS he left Li Soong to play with whichever of his toys he wanted to admire next. It was fortunate that Lin had been killed by the Americans before he could stop Vitaly or do any additional damage to the situation. He climbed into his limo and then pulled out his phone. He needed help, and calling his own government would present more questions than answers.

  “Brognola.”

  “Mr. Brognola, it’s good to hear your voice,” Kolodoka said.

  “How did you get my direct number?” he demanded.

  “In a world filled with so many large secrets, your phone number seems a relatively small one, doesn’t it?”

  “What can I do for you?” Brognola asked.

  “It is something that I that can do for you. I am in Kathmandu, working on our little problem. The Chinese sent Daiyu Lin, but before he could stop Vitaly or intercept the weapon, my sources tell me he was killed by a small American force.”

  “An American force?” Brognola asked. “Surely your sources are mistaken.”

  “Let me be clear with you, Mr. Brognola, and as you are a very astute man, I have no doubt you will understand me. Yesterday, I ensured that Anisim Grigori was out of the way, and today, I will make sure that Vitaly is stopped. In order to do that, I need the help of your people in the area. I don’t have enough men of my own, and those I do have are rented at best.”

  “I told you before, Felicks, that we are not involved.”

  “That’s too bad. I feel like a small war may be landing in my lap and I was hoping for some allies to even the odds. There may even be an advantage in it for us both.”

  Brognola was silent for a minute. “I’m not saying we have anyone in the area, but I’m listening.”

  “If your people help me stop Vitaly, I will let them leave with the weapon, provided it’s gone within twenty-four hours.”

  “Why would you do that, Felicks? If we can prove that the Russians were hiding nuclear weapons in Nepal...”

  Kolodoka laughed. “My friend, those are matters of diplomacy that will no doubt be hashed out in private meetings between our respective leaders, not on the world stage. The United States doesn’t want a war or to do any more saber-rattling than necessary. Neither does Russia. In the end, we have no reason to not work together. Let us agree to help one another.”

  “And what do you get out of it?” Brognola asked.

  Kolodoka found Brognola’s directness refreshing. “Two things. The first is that I rid Russia of two very dangerous men, who placed their own wealth and ambition over the needs of my country. That, I’ve already accomplished.”

  “And the second?”

  “I am a collector of bones, Mr. Brognola. This would be a very big bone to have in my closet.”

  Brognola laughed. “All right. This is what I can tell you. If we had people in the area, I can assure you that their number one mission would be to recover the weapon at all costs. If we had people in the area, they would be very thorough.”

  “I admire those traits,” Kolodoka replied. “If those people were in the area, is there a way you could reach them with a message?”

  “Hypothetically, if we had people in the area, I could probably get word to them,” he said. “What would I tell them?”

  “You would tell them to come to the warehouse where the weapon was first stolen. Vitaly will be there soon and all of this can be ended. Perhaps even a few lives will be saved.”

  “If I could get word to them, I’d be sure to pass that along,” Brognola replied. “If we had any people in the area.”

  “If,” Kolodoka said. “Oh, there is one other matter I might bring to your attention.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The plane you have on standby in Delhi? The one to transport the weapon, should your hypothetical team be successful in securing it?”

  Kolodoka could almost hear Brognola’s teeth grinding. “If there were such a plane, what about it?”

  “Get it en route,” he said. “Your people will need it if they’re going to make that deadline.”

  * * *

  VITALY WATCHED HIS enemies gaining on them in the side view mirror. The highway should have given them an easier time than the mountains, but the smoother terrain was giving their pursuers an advantage, too. Something had to be done to slow them down.

  He pulled the truck over and barked orders. Fedar and several men jumped out, quickly wiring Claymore mines with pressure switches along the road. They climbed back into the truck and the small convoy started out once more.

  An old truck careened around the corner behind them, closing the gap rapidly as he kept his pace slow. He could have gone faster but wanted to see his own handiwork. From what he could tell, two groups were involved in trying to stop him and had instead ended up fighting each other. The mines would finish them all off. In an hour or so, he’d be back at the warehouse and, shortly after that, on his way to retirement.

  “Are we no longer in a hurry, sir?” Fedar asked.

  “Fedar, one should always take the time to ensure that his work achieves the desired results.”

  In the mirror, he saw that the truck’s driver was an old man. His expression was fiercely joyful as he closed in on his prey. No doubt, this was the man who’d been hiding in the monastery. He appeared intent on exacting his revenge.

  Vitaly slowed even more, relishing the sense of anticipation in his gut. He smiled to himself. Despite all the little setbacks, things were beginning to look up.

  The old man’s gaze suddenly turned to horror as he realized he must be driving into a trap. Vitaly saw his surprise as the first Claymore exploded beside the truck. It rocked sideways, causing the other pressure plates to engage.

  Stopping completely, the Russian watched as the truck spun and came to a stop, a burning hulk of metal. The flames and smoke quickly obscured the cab. Whoever the old man had been, he was dead now, along with anyone else in the truck.

  Vitaly laughed and shifted back into gear, rapidly gaining speed. Now there was nothing standing between him and the warehouse.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Bolan barely heard the chime of the satellite phone in his pocket as he guided Lin’s motorcycle down the road. Nischal clung on behind him, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He looked away from the road long enough to tell her to take the phone out of his jacket pocket and answer it.

  “Hello?” she said. “Brognola? You’re going to have to speak up. I can barely hear you!” She was practically shouting into the phone, and Bolan realized he was going to have to stop and take the call. He pulled over as she told Brognola to hold on.

  “This isn’t really a great time,” he said by way of greeting. “I’m sort of in the middle of chasing down a nuclear weapon.”

  He listened as Brognola outlined Kolodoka’s plan. “It’s a good notion,” he finally said. “But do we have any reason to trust him?”

  “No, but I think he’s playing this one straight,
Striker. And at this point, it might be our only solution.”

  Bolan scanned the empty landscape around them. It had taken him the better part of an hour to get the motorcycle running again, cribbing parts from the wreckage of the other two. Nick was nowhere to be seen, and by now, Vitaly’s lead was probably insurmountable without help. “Agreed,” he said. “Let Kolodoka know we’re coming, and get that plane here.”

  “It’s already in the air,” Brognola said. “Stay safe and let’s do this as quietly as we can.”

  “Understood.” Bolan broke the connection and quickly brought Nischal up to speed, then restarted the bike and took off down the road toward Kathmandu.

  Twenty minutes later, they rounded a curve and Bolan almost laid the bike down trying to avoid the still-smoldering debris of the truck.

  Before he’d even come to a complete stop, Nischal was off the back and running toward it, shouting the old spy’s name.

  Bolan approached more cautiously, but he could tell what had happened. The damage was from multiple Claymores impacting the truck at virtually the same time. Given the positioning of the fuel tanks on the side, it hadn’t taken much to cause a pretty big fire.

  “Come help me!” Nischal yelled as she tried to get into what was left of the cab.

  He jogged toward her and yanked on the door handle, forcing it open.

  Bolan prepared for the worst, then caught his breath as he saw the inside of the cab. There was no sign of either Solomon or Raju.

  “I don’t understand,” Nischal said, running a hand through her hair. “Where are they? What happened to them?”

  Bolan shook his head. “Let’s hope they got out of the truck in time and found a place to hide. They’d still be here if Vitaly got to them.”

  Nischal let out a small sob. “But Raju...”

  “He’s gotten out of bad scrapes before,” Bolan assured her. “Plus, this is his home. He knows the area and the people. If he got away, he’ll be fine.” Neither of them stated the obvious—that Solomon, with his deteriorating mental health and who knew what kind of injuries, didn’t stand much of a chance out here, even if he survived Vitaly’s death trap.

  Nischal nodded, composing herself, and followed Bolan back to the bike.

  “Vitaly has a lot to answer for,” she said. “So very much to answer for.”

  “He’ll get his due,” Bolan said. “I promise you that.”

  * * *

  VITALY GUIDED THE mobile platform into the warehouse parking lot, his small convoy following along. He was halfway out of the vehicle when he realized that the men on duty were not, in fact, his men at all. They wore a mishmash of uniforms, but all of them were armed and moving quickly to surround the platform.

  He jumped back into the cab, cursing. “Out the other side,” he snarled at Fedar. “Right now!”

  Fedar quickly opened his door and guided their other trucks into position, providing cover for Vitaly and his remaining men. Behind them, another truck pulled into the gap in the fence, blocking the exit.

  Without breaking cover, Vitaly yelled, “Who’s in command?”

  “Oh, you surely know me, Nizar Vitaly, as I most certainly know you,” a deep, almost jovial voice replied from somewhere on the other side of the platform. “You can surrender now, and I will give you a merciful ending.”

  Vitaly laughed as he dredged the voice from memory. “Felicks Kolodoka,” he called. “I heard you were retired in America, living the life of a diplomat.”

  “I was, until your actions and those of your superior forced my hand. Surrender, Vitaly. It’s not too late to at least save some of your men.”

  “The Russian Master of Spies and Keeper of Secrets,” he replied. “You know I can’t do that, and you know that if you send those half-trained boys in here, many will die.”

  “I do,” Kolodoka replied. “Which is why I’m content to wait. If you will not surrender, then other steps will be taken.”

  Several reports rang out and the tires on the vehicles in his convoy were flattened. “Hold your fire!” Vitaly yelled to his own men, knowing that if they shot back, it would be a bloodbath. There had to be a way out of this mess, and what he needed was time.

  “Excellently done, Felicks,” he called out. “I cannot surrender and I cannot leave, but you cannot come and get me without creating a scene too big for you to cover up for Mother Russia. A standoff, yes?”

  “I quite agree,” the man replied. “But there is one difference between us.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I have all the time in the world, and you, my friend, do not. I am content to wait.”

  “Then you can damn well wait!” Vitaly snarled.

  He turned his attention to Fedar, whose expression, for once, was less than serene. “If you have any ideas,” he said, “now would be a good time for one.”

  Fedar shrugged. “Nothing useful comes to mind at the moment, sir, except to die with honor.”

  “You’re a fool, Fedar,” Vitaly said. “What makes you think there’s anything honorable left in this world?”

  * * *

  BOLAN GUIDED THE motorcycle into Kathmandu, avoiding the main streets and numerous market squares, and followed Nischal’s directions to the warehouse. She was familiar with the city and had studied the location of the warehouse on their flight over. He could see the mobile platform and Vitaly’s small convoy surrounded inside the fence line. The gate was blocked with another truck, but there was enough room for them to slip inside.

  He brought the bike to a stop as he saw the stalemate in play before him. Something or someone had to give or there was going to be a very big mess to explain to the world. This couldn’t be kept quiet if it turned into a big gun battle. A fairly large man waved in his direction from his position behind a large, black limousine.

  “I expect that’s our host,” he said to Nischal.

  “It is,” she replied. “That’s Felicks Kolodoka.”

  “I’m still surprised he came out here,” Bolan replied as they walked toward the man. “He was supposed to be retired.”

  “Do we ever really retire?” she asked, obviously thinking of Solomon.

  “I don’t suppose we do,” he admitted.

  They reached the Russian and Bolan nodded in greeting. “I understand we have you to thank for Vitaly’s welcome party.”

  He shrugged modestly. “And you are the Americans who aren’t actually here,” he replied. “You’re a very solid-looking pair for a hypothetical.”

  “I get that a lot,” Bolan said. “So, is Vitaly pinned down behind the platform?”

  “All business,” Kolodoka said, nodding his approval. “Yes, he is, but he’s in like a tick. Getting him out without losing a lot of men will be difficult.”

  “I see that,” Bolan replied.

  “Was there an old man or a child with him?” Nischal asked intently.

  Kolodoka shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I’d heard you were a party of at least three or four.”

  “We got separated just south of the border,” Bolan said, studying the situation. “Do you have any ideas on how you’d like to play this out?”

  Kolodoka nodded. “Yes, I’m going to get back in my car and have a drink. While I’m there, I suggest you kill Vitaly. The rest of his men will surrender after that.”

  “Sounds simple enough,” Bolan said. “Just saunter over and take him out.”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” the Russian replied. “I did my part in locking him down until you could arrive. The rest, as they say, is up to you.” Then he heeded his own words and climbed into the back of the limousine.

  Bolan turned to Nischal. “I’ve got an idea.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’m going to call him out,”
he said. “I think I can get him to play, but you can’t get involved. I need you to watch my back because he’s going to have someone watching his.”

  “I can do that,” she said. “Just try not to get yourself killed.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he said. “Stay on my six, but give me enough room to maneuver if he comes out.”

  She nodded, following along in his wake as he moved into the open area between Kolodoka’s men and Vitaly’s convoy. “Hey, Vitaly!” Bolan yelled. “You don’t have a reputation for being much of a hider. Why don’t you come out here and we can settle this like men?”

  “And get shot for my trouble?” Vitaly yelled in reply. “No, thank you. Though I’ve been wondering when the Americans would show up. You’ve been a thorn in my side since I got here.”

  “I’ve done what I could to make your life miserable,” he said, “but you’ve stayed ahead of me until now. And left quite a path of bodies behind you.”

  “People got in my way,” Vitaly said. “Some had to be persuaded to part with information. That’s what we do in our business, my friend.”

  “No,” Bolan said. “That’s what you do, you coward.”

  “I’m no coward!” Vitaly yelled, genuine anger in his voice.

  “Fine,” Bolan said, “Then prove it. Come out and fight. Just you and me. If you win, you and your men walk. You won’t get the nuke, but you’ll be alive.”

  There was a moment of hushed conversation, and then Vitaly appeared around the front of the mobile platform. “Do I know you?” he asked. “What is your name?”

  “Colonel Brandon Stone,” Bolan replied. “But I’m not officially here, any more than you are. We’re both off the books, and Kolodoka isn’t watching, so what do you say? Care to make a go of it?”

  Another man appeared beside Vitaly, whispering rapid words into his ear. “Shut up, Fedar,” the big man said. “We don’t know who this man really is.”

  “You don’t, and I left my identification in my other pants at home.”

  “If I beat you, my men and I walk out of here?” Vitaly asked. “No weapons, just man to man?”