Stand Down

by Don Pendleton

  “Let me get this straight, Deputy. Once again you had this Cooper pinned down, and yet he managed to get away, killing even more of my men and still keeping my son as a hostage in the process. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir, however, if the Cristobal men had followed orders and not moved in until I could have overseen—”

  “If they had waited, my son might be dead right now. The only thing that is saving all of you is the fact that he is still alive, as far as we know.”

  There was no way for Quintanar to reply without earning a shallow grave. “Yes, sir. What would you have us do now?”

  “I think we have been approaching this problem from the wrong direction. I am sending an order to recall everyone to the Cristobal factory. We are going to show this town exactly what we are capable of when someone crosses us. You should make arrangements to move your brother out of the hospital as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll take care of it. I can also bring with me a person that Cooper met in town—the editor of the paper, Casey Hinder.”

  “Excellent. He likes to take hostages, we can certainly do the same. She has a daughter, yes?”

  “Yes, she does.”

  “Good, collect her, as well, and let me know once you have both of them in custody. It is very disappointing that the town of Quincyville has not been able to help us bring this man to justice. They are about to learn what happens when they do not follow the rules.”

  13

  Bolan stared in disbelief at the building they’d pulled up to. “Here? This is where I’m going to find the person I need.”

  In front of him, the bright neon and gleaming chrome of Rollins’s Diner shone through the windshield. A small light gleamed through the front windows from the back of the building. Bolan glanced at Kelly with a frown, hoping she wasn’t playing some kind of joke.

  Kelly rolled her eyes. “Where’s the best place to eat in the county? Who’s the man who knows everybody because they come in here all the time? Trust me, everyone from the mayor on down eats here. My dad…my dad used to come in every Friday for lunch, rain, shine, or tornado. If you need someone to help you with anything regarding this town, Brian Rollins is your guy.”

  Bolan checked his watch—5:30 a.m. De Cavallos had about one more hour to vacate the county, not that Bolan really expected him to give in to the demand. It had been a tactic to keep the other man off balance, as was taking his son as a hostage. But the longer he held Everado, the more dangerous the young man became for him. Sooner or later his father would do whatever it took to get his son back, and that could have disastrous repercussions on Quincyville itself. Bolan had to do all he could to prevent that.

  He drove around to the back and parked. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Didn’t you say you needed someone who would take you at face value? Well, just sit down with him and talk for five minutes, and I’m sure you’ll get him on your side. C’mon.”

  Bolan got out and hauled a dozing Everado with him as they headed to the door. The smell of cooking food filled the air, making Bolan’s stomach rumble as he realized he hadn’t eaten since the last time he was here.

  Kelly banged on the service door, waited ten seconds, then banged on it harder.

  “Hold on, hold on, I’m comin’, damn it!” a voice shouted from inside. A few seconds later the heavy steel door cracked open, and a man Bolan recognized as the cook from yesterday poked his head out. “Kelly? Kelly Bitterman? Girl, what the hell you doin’ bustin’ my door down at five in the morn…” His voice trailed off as he noticed Bolan standing behind her—and Everado next to him.

  Bolan gave him credit. He didn’t gape or appear shocked, he just blinked twice as he looked the three up and down. “You must be Mr. Cooper?”

  “That’s right.”

  “According to the radio, you’re cutting a wide trail of destruction through our fair town, including kidnapping young Kelly here.”

  “That’s not what’s going on—” Kelly started to say, but was hushed by Rollins.

  “Hold on, girl, let the man speak for himself.”

  Bolan tried to sort out where to begin. “It’s a very complicated story, Mr. Rollins, but the short end is that I’m a Department of Justice agent who’s stumbled onto the biggest methamphetamine lab in the United States, operating right here in your town. I have one witness—” he nodded at Kelly “—who can testify that a sheriff’s deputy working with these drug traffickers killed her parents, and the son of the head of security at Cristobal—” he shoved Everado forward “—who told me everything I need to know about what they’re really manufacturing at the plant outside of town. I’d be happy to share everything I’ve found out with you if you’d like.”

  “Department of Justice, huh? I don’t suppose you have any ID?”

  “Yeah.” Bolan produced the billfold and handed it over.

  Rollins scrutinized it for almost a minute before handing it back. He looked at Kelly. “Is what he’s saying the truth?”

  “I can’t vouch for the whole meth lab thing, but I saw Rojas Quintanar kill my mother.” Kelly’s voice shook a bit, but she retained her composure. “Since then, Everado has tried to capture us, and we’ve been on the run from both the Quintanar deputies and Cristobal’s private security goons all night long.”

  Rollins rubbed his eyes. “Well, that’s good enough for a start. Come on inside. I’ll put young Mr. Everado on ice for the time being, and the three of us’ll have a chat.” He looked both of them up and down. “I’ll bet you’re both starved anyway.”

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Bolan polished off the last bite of what had to be the best pair of burgers he’d ever had. Kelly had wolfed down a huge bowl of chili with melted cheese and onions, followed by a slab of fresh-baked cherry pie with ice cream. She was lying down in one of the booths while Bolan and Rollins talked. He’d already filled in the cook on what had happened after he’d left the diner yesterday, and was listening as Rollins finished answering his question about whether he had ever served.

  “Serving under Commander Franks as part of the VII Armor Corps in the Gulf was one of the finest things I’ve ever done in my life. After finishing my tour, I came back here to take over the diner from my father and start a family, and I’ve been here ever since.” Rollins fixed Bolan with a steady stare. “And I’ve never cared much for the idea of these guys coming in and thinking they can tell us what they can and can’t do in our town.”

  “From what I saw yesterday afternoon, you’re not the only one who feels that way.”

  Rollins nodded. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for putting that snot-nose Everado in his place—it’s been a long time coming. I only wish some of us’d had the guts to do it before now. Looks like we’re about to reap what we sowed, aren’t we?”

  Bolan didn’t drop his gaze. “I’m hoping to head that off before anyone else gets hurt, if possible.”

  Rollins leaned back in his booth seat and shrugged. “May be too late for that. You know, a lot of people thought Cristobal would be just what this town needed to survive at first, myself included, to be honest. As much as we wanted to preserve our way of life out here, we also realized it wasn’t going to be possible without help from someone else. But look what that got us.”

  “It wasn’t anybody’s fault that Cristobal is what it is. From what I can tell, their company has a nearly airtight cover. I hate to say it, but even the U.S. government doesn’t seem to have any idea that a major meth manufacturer and distributor is working under its very nose in the heartland of America. And if I hadn’t taken a small detour out here yesterday, they still wouldn’t know about it.”

  “So you’ve been in contact with the DOJ and DEA, right? They’re going to investigate further? More important, if shit’s about to go down, when are the reinforcements arriving?”

  Bolan tried to keep a grimace off his face as he replied. “They probably will, but by the time they get out here in sufficient force, Cristoba
l will have either cleaned up its act and will only be producing legal pharmaceuticals, or they’ll pack up and skip out, most likely extracting some kind of revenge on the town before they leave.”

  Rollins folded his arms across his chest and frowned. “On us? What for? Looking at it objectively, it’s not like we asked you to come in here and poke around.”

  “Looking at it objectively, if you were the head of security for a company running a major illegal drug operation, and you received word that a U.S. government agent just happened to appear in town and started looking around recently, wouldn’t you think someone had dropped a dime to bring him here? I don’t think these guys are going to accept any pleas of innocence on your part—that’s not how they do business.”

  “So you think we’re in for it no matter what?” Rollins asked.

  Bolan simply nodded.

  “But they can’t just destroy an entire town in the middle of America! Who’d stand for it?”

  “They already have the police under their thumb. With a large enough group of armed men, they could destroy Main Street, burn the rest of the town and be well on the way to the Mexican border before any kind of force could be mobilized to stop them. In fact, if a cartel is behind this, it would be a great PR boost for them—‘look what we did to a town in the middle of America, and got away with it.’”

  Rollins leaned forward. “Over my dead body.”

  “Hopefully it won’t come to that. I think De Cavallos is preparing a show of force to try and get you all to give me up to him. I’ve got an idea to beat him to the punch, so to speak, but I’ll need help. Specifically, every man and woman who wants to stand up for their town and what they believe in. Normally I wouldn’t bring civilians into a situation like this, but—”

  “Seems like we’re right in the middle as it is, and from what you’ve told me, it’s gone too far already. A lot of people, including the editor of the town newspaper, have suspected there’s more going on there than simple drug research and manufacturing, but no one could ever get anything concrete out of them. And anyone who came close was either warned off or disappeared.”

  “Disappeared or killed? Do you think that’s what happened to the Bittermans?”

  Rollins checked to see if Kelly was still sleeping before he replied. “Hard to say. Jack always was an opportunistic SOB, but he also loved this town, or at least he seemed to. If they were up to anything illegal, I’d like to say he would have turned them in, but I can’t be entirely sure I’d be right.”

  “Well, now you’re getting the chance to make your own choice.”

  “That’s easy—I’m in. What did you have in mind?”

  Bolan outlined his plan, which was fairly simple. The bulk of it involved getting people informed and organized. “Ideally, if we can get enough people in one place, the show of solidarity should convince these guys of the futility of trying anything further. What do you think?”

  “I can contact three people on the Chamber of Commerce, each one a veteran, in five minutes. From there they can each contact three other people, who will do the same. It’ll be an old-fashioned telephone tree. If I can’t get you at least one hundred people willing to show up, then this town deserves to go up in flames.”

  Bolan smiled. “From what Kelly said, if anyone could pull this off, you could.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can. What are you going to be up to in the meantime?”

  Bolan’s expression turned grim. “I’m going to be getting the evidence needed to prove these guys are running meth out of your town. We’ll need it for the rest of the feds in case things go south. What’s the best number to reach you at?”

  Rollins gave him a cell phone number, and Bolan returned the favor with Everado’s cell number. “Don’t call me unless it’s an absolute emergency. Most likely I’ll be in touch with you first. You know how to text?”

  Rollins nodded. “I’ve raised three boys, the younger two are thirteen and fifteen. Believe me, I know more than I ever wanted to about it.”

  Bolan was busy changing his cell phone’s ring feature to vibrate. “When you have as many people assembled as you think you can get, and if I’m not back or you haven’t heard from me yet, text me. We’ll go from there.”

  Rollins got up from his seat. “Then I’d better get busy.” He headed to the back of the store, already calling his first target. Bolan was dialing as well, and heard a familiar voice pick up.

  “Striker, you better be on the other end of this line,” Aaron Kurtzman said.

  “Up awfully early, aren’t you, Bear?”

  “Who has time to sleep with you running around raising hell in middle America?”

  “Hey, more broad-minded contacts would call it self-defense. By the way, we owe a man out here a new garage.”

  “Do I even want to know why?”

  “Probably not. I don’t want to give particulars over the phone, but we’ll take care of it when I get back to the farm.”

  “Why do I get the feeling that isn’t the only reason you called in? You’re planning something, aren’t you?”

  “You know me too well. I’ve been on the defensive ever since I got to this town. It’s time I mounted an offense. And before this is over, I’m going to get evidence showing that Cristobal is manufacturing and distributing methamphetamine on an incredible scale on the continental United States.”

  “Well, you may have to bring home a chemist or two for direct testimony.”

  “What, the son of the head of security doesn’t count for anything?”

  “He’d help, assuming he lives through this. By the way, Akira’s been sifting through Cristobal’s computer system since your last check in, and hasn’t come up with anything. Like everything else we’ve found, on the surface they seem to be a clean company. Ditto for the late Mr. Bitterman. Whatever he was doing, he hid his tracks well too.”

  “Cristobal must keep the data of their illegal activities on a closed system. That works for me, since I was planning to pay a visit to their site anyway. Was he able to get plans of the site itself?” Bolan asked.

  “Yes, if you can get to a computer, they’ve been posted for your review. Remember, since you’re gathering evidence, it would be good to throw the DEA a bone on something like this if possible. A little goodwill in Washington, D.C., can go a long way.”

  “I’ll bring you whatever I can.”

  “And try to leave the town in one piece, will ya?”

  “That’s the plan. I’ll be in touch.” Bolan disconnected, then placed another call, checking the current time as he waited for the man on the other end to answer.

  “Mr. Cooper, I presume?”

  “Mr. De Cavallos, you have approximately forty-eight minutes to—”

  “Actually, Mr. Cooper, I would suggest that you listen to me. You have something I want, so I have taken something I think you will want. Listen closely.”

  There was an odd scuffling noise, then Bolan heard harsh, ragged breathing over the phone. “Mr. Cooper? This is Casey Hinder, from the newspaper. These men have my daughter, Mr. Cooper—they have my daughter!”

  Bolan remained calm, although he was starting to see red. “So you’re adding kidnapping to the list of charges pending against you.”

  “I simply borrowed a page from your own playbook. I propose a simple exchange, the Hinder ladies for my son. You bring him to the Cristobal compound and we’ll—”

  “Not a chance. If I decide to agree to exchange these people, we do it on public ground, in broad daylight. I think Main Street will serve as a good place. I’ll call you in an hour with the details.”

  Bolan snapped the phone closed and stared out the window at the first glimmers of sunrise starting to creep over the horizon. Aware of eyes upon him, he turned back to see Kelly staring at him.

  “What’s going on?”

  Bolan didn’t mince words. “De Cavallos took Casey Hinder and her daughter hostage.”

  “What are you going to do?”

 
; Bolan rose from the booth. “I’m going to get them back.”

  14

  Twenty-five minutes later, Bolan was lying in dew-soaked grass two hundred yards from the perimeter of the Cristobal Pharmaceutical compound, scanning the site with night-vision binoculars.

  Although he was doing an infiltration with minimum reconnaissance, he had two things going for him—the hour before sunrise was when most people, including security guards, were at their most relaxed, making a successful penetration more likely.

  The second thing in his favor is that this would be the absolute last thing de Cavallos or his people would expect.

  There were still plenty of obstacles in his way, however, the first of which was the ten-foot-high, electrified cyclone fence topped with razor wire that ringed the property. If he had access to air support, he could have simply dropped in on the roof of one of the buildings and gained an access point there. If wishes were airplanes, he thought.

  A loud growl from the south caught his attention, and Bolan moved his glasses over to see a tractor trailer coming up the road. The name on the side read Juarez Brothers Trucking. Bolan had a pretty good idea about its final destination, and also how he could use it. When he saw that the truck had a large flipper, or aerodynamic hood on top of the cab, he went for it.

  Plotting an intercept course, he ran for the road, trying to reach the ditch before the truck got close enough for the driver to spot him. Hitting the ground fifty yards out, he crawled on his belly into the dry ravine just as the truck slowed to turn into the driveway, the driver pulling to a stop at the guardhouse to present his documentation.

  Crouched at the side of the ditch nearest the road, Bolan waited while the guards checked the semi thoroughly, including using mirrors to scan the roof and the underside of the tractor and its trailer. He tensed, ready to move at the right time, knowing the next few seconds would mean success or failure.

  Finishing their sweep, the two guards turned to walk to the front of the cab. The moment their backs were turned, Bolan checked traffic, then rose and ran for the back of the semi, making sure to stay lined up with the center of the trailer to avoid being seen by the driver or the guards. He reached the rear doors, and had just gotten one foot on the rear guard when the truck lurched forward as it began passing through the gate. Bolan scrambled up the back of the trailer as fast as he could. Just as the roof of the tower came into sight, he pulled himself on top of the semi and lay flat, panting as the truck drove into the compound. Crawling to the front of the trailer, he peered around to make sure no one was watching, then stepped across the small opening between the trailer and the semi itself, tucking his body into the black space inside the hollow flipper. The acrid smell of exhaust as it belched out the twin smokestacks stung his nose, and he stifled the urge to cough.