Chain Reaction

by Don Pendleton

  “Ben,” Bolan said, “thanks for your input. We’ll keep you updated.”

  “Sounds like a departure is imminent,” Sharon said. “Take care, my friend. Goodbye.” The connection was broken.

  “Open a file on Henrick DeJong, Akira,” Brognola said. He turned to Bolan. “What’s your make on this?”

  “Hegre losing the diamonds is going to leave them having to make alternative arrangements. If they want that uranium for their client, they’ll need to negotiate with DeJong.”

  “Which will give DeJong an advantage,” Price said. “He might decide to up the price.”

  “From what I’ve learned about this Delaware woman, that isn’t going to be an easy thing to do,” Kurtzman said.

  “Who said life had to be easy?” Bolan said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  For Commander Valentine Seminov the day stretching ahead looked like just one more round of administration, forms to fill in and monthly assessment charts to compile. For the past week the Moscow Organized Crime Department had been so quiet Seminov could have believed the city’s criminals had taken a mass vacation. He knew that was far from the truth. Crime did not take a holiday. Seminov had a bad feeling that something would happen without warning, and his department would be once again flooded with problems. He pushed his chair away from his paper-strewed desk and stood, crossing to stare out the rain-streaked window. The street below was almost deserted, with just a few hardy Muscovites braving the cold and wet.

  Seminov heard the door click behind him and then the smell of freshly brewed coffee assailed his nostrils. When he turned he saw his assistant, Officer Nikolai Dimitri, entering the office. Dimitri had a small tray in his hands. He pushed the door shut with his foot and crossed to place the tray on his own desk.

  “I’m sure you are ready for this.”

  Seminov’s broad face showed a genuine smile.

  “Nikolai, I must be training you well. Coffee, exactly on time to rescue me from that damned paperwork.”

  Dimitri handed his superior a steaming mug.

  “I never realized this job could be so boring,” he said. “If I never see another form to fill in I will be a happy man.”

  Seminov swallowed hot coffee. At least, he decided, the coffee was better since the OCD had moved to their new premises. The building was no more than a couple of years old, modern, reasonably well equipped and located in central Moscow.

  The building that had originally housed the OCD had been destroyed by a bomb blast, and Seminov’s department had been relocated to an old warehouse on a deserted industrial site. They had struggled in the creaky old structure, having to operate with poor equipment, and for a while it looked as if they would be staying permanently. Unbeknown to the department, Seminov’s boss, the district commissioner, had been working tirelessly to have the OCD relocated to better premises. In the end his persistent campaign won over the authorities and a replacement headquarters was granted.

  For Valentine Seminov it meant having his own office again, a large room where he could spread out and gain a little privacy. Through the glass that made up the office’s front wall, he could look out over the main section of the department, where his team was working tirelessly. Seminov took pride in his people. Despite the overwhelming flood of cases that just kept coming, the OCD had its fair share of successes.

  Which made the recent lull in new cases a mystery in itself. Seminov didn’t believe for one moment that the Russian criminal fraternity had taken time off. Fresh cases would arrive, Seminov would assign a team, and they would step onto the old familiar carousel once again.

  He slumped into his big swivel office chair, mug in hand, and watched as Dimitri sat staring at his computer monitor, slowly shaking his head.

  “It’s never ending,” the young officer said. “I go home at night with these figures rolling around in my head.”

  Seminov’s booming laugh filled the office.

  “No, young Dimitri, the only thing rolling around at night is you and that beautiful young lady in your bed. Irina. Do not try to deny it, Sergeant Nikolai Dimitri. Remember who you work for. Me. Nothing escapes my attention.”

  Dimitri reddened. He should have known his friendship with the stunning young woman from the OCD’s filing section would not stay a secret for long.

  “Nikolai, I applaud your good taste. If I was a younger man you would have competition.”

  Dimitri’s phone rang at that moment and he snatched up the receiver, grateful for the distraction. He listened, then caught Seminov’s attention.

  “A call for you, Commander.”

  Seminov picked up and listened for a moment. A wide grin cross his face.

  “Good to hear your voice, my friend.”

  “I will be flying in tomorrow, Valentine,” Mack Bolan said. “Can you meet me at Sheremetyevo? My flight lands at 9:30 a.m.” He gave Seminov the flight number.

  “Of course, my friend. I look forward to seeing you.”

  “Do svidaniya, Valentine.”

  The call was ended. Seminov stared at the silent phone in his hand.

  “Is everything all right?” Dimitri asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Seminov answered.

  The American he knew as Cooper was certainly not one for long conversations if a few words would suffice. In this instance he had been even briefer than usual. The one thing Seminov had deduced from the call was that Cooper had something important on his mind. Something that required a face-to-face meet.

  “Commander?”

  “Clear your calendar for tomorrow, Nikolai. Give anything you are working on to one of the other officers. Make sure we have a vehicle available. Tomorrow morning we have to pick someone up from Sheremetyevo.” Seminov tapped his fingers on the desk. “And, Nikolai, this stays between you and me. Understand? No one else needs to know where we will be going. The less that is broadcast to potentially unfriendly ears, the better.”

  “Of course, Commander.”

  “Tell no one. Not even the beautiful Irina.”

  Dimitri sighed, knowing Seminov’s teasing might turn into something regular. Not that he really minded. He considered himself a lucky guy to have the affections of such a gorgeous and loving young woman. A little ribbing from Commander Seminov was a small price to pay.

  * * *

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING Seminov and Dimitri drove the eighteen miles to the airport. Sheremetyevo International Airport lay to the southeast of Moscow. Dimitri, driving the dark colored SUV he had been assigned by the OCD’s motor pool, didn’t ask any questions. He could see that Seminov was occupied with his thoughts. Whoever the man was they were meeting, he was important to his boss.

  The day was wet, constant cold rain issuing from a clouded sky. Streams of spray flew up from the tires of vehicles on the highway, and Dimitri had to keep the windshield wipers on permanently. Dimitri glanced at the clock on the dash. They were in plenty of time to meet the plane coming in from the U.S.

  “When we meet this man,” Seminov said abruptly, “I want you to listen rather than talk. If he has made this journey, there must be something urgent to attend to.”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, Nikolai, Cooper has been a good friend to me. We have worked together before, and he puts himself at great risk when matters call for it.” Seminov smiled. “A very dedicated man. One who will not step away from trouble if it occurs, and when Cooper is around, things do happen.”

  “Does he work for the American government? CIA? One of their agencies?”

  “This is where things become a little gray around the edges, Nikolai. Cooper has what is considered his own—what is the word—yes, agenda. From what I have been able to understand he is not officially part of any American organization as such, but he sometimes undertakes
special missions that have high clearance. He does what he needs to do to bring down those who work against society. The worst kind.”

  Dimitri considered that for a while. “He is a vigilante? He takes the law into his own hands?”

  “Words, Nikolai, that cannot do justice to what Cooper does. He is a special man. And take my word for it, young Dimitri, he’s deserving of our respect.”

  Dimitri concentrated on driving, digesting Seminov’s words. His superior was a special man himself, a dedicated police officer who had spent his working life combatting crime and criminals. There were, Dimitri understood, cops and then there was Commander Valentine Seminov. Viewed from that standpoint there was nothing else to say. If Seminov vouched for this American, that was more than enough for Nikolai Dimitri.

  At Seminov’s request Dimitri parked the SUV in a restricted zone close to the terminal building’s exit doors. An airport security guard confronted them, ready to make his presence felt. Seminov simply produced his OCD badge and held it up where the man could see it.

  “Let us not make this an issue—” Seminov checked the man’s label badge “—Officer Trenshka. I’m here on OCD business. If you wish to take this further, call your supervising officer and we can discuss the matter. On the other hand, I would appreciate your cooperation by making sure my vehicle is looked after while we are here.”

  The airport cop nodded, managing a brief smile. One look at Seminov’s imposing figure in his leather coat and the OCD credentials, made him realize he was skating on thin ice. He was aware of the OCD’s reputation. OCD handled the toughest crime cases around. Commander Valentine Seminov was a name he had heard before, a legend even in his own department. Not a man to cross.

  “Yes, Commander Seminov. Your vehicle will be safe here.”

  “Much appreciated.”

  The airport cop almost saluted as Seminov and Dimitri walked away.

  “I think he was ready to wet his pants.” Dimitri grinned as they went inside the terminal building.

  “You think so?” Seminov growled. “Then my work out there is done.”

  They made their way through the crowded terminal, heading for the arrivals lounge. Seminov scanned the overhead, electronic board, looking for Cooper’s flight information. When he found it he saw the flight was on time and would land within the next few minutes. He led the way to the arrival gate.

  When the passengers from the flight began to emerge from the gate, Seminov had no trouble spotting the American. Cooper stood head and shoulders above most of the other passengers, his imposing figure instantly recognizable. He was dressed in dark, casual clothing, and carried a small flight bag. When he saw Seminov, the American acknowledged him with a brief nod.

  As Cooper cleared the crowd, Seminov saw he was not alone.

  The young woman walking beside Cooper immediately drew attention. Tall, athletic and confident in her stride, she wore a dark business suit, a white shirt and black low-heeled shoes. Seminov found it hard to ignore the dark hair framing a beautiful face and bright eyes that were taking in everything around her. She gave off an air of being in control of herself and seemed fully at ease beside Cooper.

  Seminov stepped forward, spreading his big hands as he confronted Cooper. He threw his powerful arms around the American, hugging him. Bolan reciprocated, with none of the stiffness Seminov had found in many Westerners.

  “Good to see you, old friend. Always good to see you.”

  They broke apart after a few moments and Bolan put his hand on the woman’s shoulder.

  “Commander Valentine Seminov,” he said. “Moscow OCD. Valentine, this is Sarah Mitchell, an FBI agent. We’re working together.

  Seminov beamed at the young woman. He was an open individual, and his natural exuberance would not allow him to merely shake her hand. He offered her his outstretched arms. Seminov was pleasantly surprised when Mitchell stepped forward and embraced him, her grip firm and confident.

  “I’ve heard so much about you, Commander,” she said.

  As they stepped back from each other, Seminov gave an amused laugh. “Whatever Cooper said about me...is most likely true.”

  “Who is this?” Bolan asked as he glanced at Dimitri.

  Seminov gestured for Dimitri to step forward. “Sergeant Nikolai Dimitri. He is my partner. Almost my shadow.” Seminov lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I have to teach him how to be a policeman. Believe me it is hard work.”

  Mitchell was the first to take Dimitri’s hand.

  “I’m sure that is not the case, Commander Seminov,” she said. “Good to meet you, Nikolai Dimitri.”

  “And you,” Dimitri said in his best English.

  “If Valentine is teaching you, Sergeant, try not to pick up his bad habits,” Bolan said.

  “Come,” Seminov said. “We have transport outside. While we travel you can tell me what this is all about.”

  “Don’t we need to go through customs?” Mitchell asked.

  “Pah,” Seminov said. “Not a problem, young lady. OCD has special privileges. You stay with me and I will show you.”

  He folded Mitchell’s arm in his own and led the way. She caught Bolan’s eye, but all he did was incline his head.

  “On your own, Agent Mitchell.”

  Minutes later they emerged, after an unchallenged walk through customs following Seminov’s quick word with the officers, from the terminal and went straight to the parked SUV. The airport cop was standing close by. He acknowledged Seminov with a smile.

  As they all climbed in, Seminov patted the cop on the shoulder.

  “Well done, young Trenshka. Cooperation is important. I will remember you.”

  With Dimitri behind the wheel, the SUV pulled away from the terminal and picked up the road that led to the main highway. Bolan and Mitchell sat in the rear.

  “Your first trip to Russia, Sarah Mitchell?” Seminov asked.

  “Yes, Commander.”

  “Not Commander. Valentine. Please.” Seminov gestured through the rain-streaked windshield. “Not at her best today, Russia. In more ways than one if you understand my meaning.”

  “America is having her problems, too,” Mitchell said. “It’s difficult times for us all.”

  Seminov nodded. “So, Cooper, what is this all about, this very secretive visit? And be assured anything you have to tell me can be for Dimitri’s ears, as well. He can be trusted. I vouch for that. I know his secrets.”

  Bolan ran through the details, bringing Seminov up to speed on what had already taken place. He left nothing out, finishing by giving the names of DeJong and Lubinski.

  “If I had heard that story from anyone else,” Seminov said, “I would not have believed it. You crash a plane and walk away with only a few scratches. Do battle with the enemy and survive.” Seminov shook his head. “Only you, Cooper. But shame on you dragging this beautiful young woman along with you.”

  “There was no choice, Valentine,” Mitchell said. “These things happen. It was forced on us. And it is my job.”

  “So you believe this contraband uranium may be helped on its way by Lubinski?”

  “Intel from my source and Mossad would suggest that. I’d say Hegre is trying to keep this low-key. Iran is on too many watch lists to make a buy with too much fanfare. You know the situation. They’ll go whatever route they can to get what they want into the country.”

  Seminov rubbed his forehead. “Not the first time this has happened. Those people are determined to gain their membership in the nuclear club.”

  “I won’t let that happen,” Bolan said.

  Seminov understood. And he also knew that if it was humanly possible, Cooper would put a stop to the scheme.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Julius Hegre closed the cell phone. He went over the conversation
he had just ended with Henrick DeJong. It had not been the kind of conversation he enjoyed. Less than pleasant. He was about to call Delaware when the door of his office opened and she walked in.

  “Not so good news?”

  “I’ve just spoken with DeJong,” Hegre said. “He has problems with Lubinski over the delay in paying the man.”

  “Damn. This is getting ridiculous. Surely Lubinski knows he will be paid.”

  “The deal was on delivery. He has delivered. We haven’t paid.” Hegre spread his hands. “One of the first times we have failed to honor our debt.”

  “Do you believe in bad luck?” Delaware asked. “Because if it does exist, we are experiencing one hell of a long run.”

  Delaware paced the office, hands braced against her hips. Hegre watched her, understanding her frustration. She was going through a bad time personally. Her meticulous planning was way off track. Nothing like this had happened before. Under Hegre’s guidance Delaware and the organization had mounted successful operations that ran smoothly and ended successfully. Until now. The collapse of the diamond venture had gone against them and Hegre himself had to admit it had been a disaster.

  The planning of the operation, the actual heist, had worked well. The diamond cache was intended to prop up Hegre’s finances and assist them over the upcoming operational period. The loss of the diamonds had left Hegre with a deficit that demanded they break into their reserves to finance the uranium deal for the Iranians.

  Ayatollah Fikri, the man behind the contract, was difficult to deal with. He was a cold and arrogant individual. He did not conceal his disdain for the people he was employing; he had from the start made it clear he considered Hegre beneath him, that the Hegre organization was an example of Western degeneracy. In Fikri’s eyes Hegre was low on the human scale, but he had to use them because he had no other choice. The embargo on importing uranium into Iran was strictly enforced. There was no other way so Fikri had to go the illegal route. It was a means to an end, an end Fikri felt was totally justified by his ambition to present Iran with the means to build its own nuclear capability.