Now to size up Davis Haglemann.
The convoy came to a stop beneath an overhang that extended from the main entrance. The men climbed from the cars, but only Lustrum, Dumyat and Bolan were permitted to enter the estate. The others were instructed to wait there under the watchful eye of the three men who guarded the front door. Another man, who wore a navy-colored wool suit and walked with the casual saunter of a guy packing a heavy pistol in shoulder leather, led them through the front entrance into a neighboring den. A hearth of chiseled granite and framed by mahogany polished to a mirror finish reflected the crackling flames of a cozy fire.
Two of the walls were lined with books, and a bearskin rug sprawled across the floor. A variety of ancient firearms, including a flintlock rifle, were mounted against another wall. Bolan studied the room with feigned interest as Lustrum and Dumyat took seats in some nearby, high-back chairs. A baby grand piano occupied another corner of the room, as did an old, Elizabethan-style desk.
Haglemann might have been scum, but he had impeccable tastes when it came to looking like a man of success and prestige. Bolan intended to see to it that he crammed all of that false pretense down the man’s throat until he choked to death on it. They waited nearly twenty minutes, adding to Haglemann’s brooding mystique of self-importance, before the guy finally decided to show himself. He wasn’t much to look at insofar as he didn’t possess striking good looks or even a regal bearing. He had an aura of eccentricity, if Bolan could have assigned any descriptor, and even that stunk with the laundry list of improprieties and dastardly business dealings attributed to him. He was little more than an overgrown, spoiled rich kid who had manipulated circumstances in the region to his benefit. He played at being the head of a powerful union and attempted to make it look that he had the best interests of the citizens on Adak at heart, when in actuality he couldn’t have cared less.
Davis Haglemann wasn’t what he pretended to be. Bolan had seen men of this type many times, and he knew exactly what kind of man Haglemann was. He wasn’t a man at all, really, but just another head on the monster Hydra that gained strength by preying on the weak and helpless and weary. He was just the kind of man who represented what Bolan had spent all of his life fighting.
“Otto,” Haglemann said with a nod to Lustrum.
“Mr. Haglemann,” Lustrum replied. He cleared his throat. “Good morning, sir. I’m sorry to drop in so unexpectedly, but I thought you’d want to meet this man right away.”
Haglemann looked in the direction Lustrum gestured and took notice of Bolan for the first time. Bolan watched for any recognition on Haglemann’s face, but the tycoon remained impassive. At least he wouldn’t have to shoot his way out of here, not at this moment, anyway. That would make his job much easier, although Bolan wouldn’t let that cause him to underestimate Haglemann. Underestimating an enemy, any enemy, made an enemy dangerous.
“And who are you?”
“His name is—”
Bolan cut Lustrum off as he stepped forward and extended his hand. “Mike Blansky, Mr. Haglemann. I was sent here to solve your little problem.”
“Really?” Haglemann’s voice sounded uncertain even as he willingly shook Bolan’s hand. “And what problem might that be?”
“The one that started on Unalaska.”
Haglemann’s eyes got a little wider, but he otherwise managed not to react, and Bolan knew he’d struck a nerve. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Maybe you are,” Bolan said.
“Maybe I’m not.” Haglemann looked at Lustrum. “What the hell’s going on here, Otto?”
“I sort of had the same question, Mr. Haglemann,” Lustrum said.
“Pardon me?”
“The job that got done on the club—this guy didn’t do it,” Lustrum said.
Haglemann’s eyes narrowed, and he turned to look at Bolan. “Is that right?”
“That’s right,” Bolan said. He dropped casually into an overstuffed suede chair and propped his feet on the matching ottoman. “In fact, I was sent here to prevent it. I just didn’t get here in time. Our mutual friends, well, they thought he’d come after you personally.”
“What friends?” Haglemann said. “I don’t think you really want to discuss that publicly.”
“Why not?” Lustrum demanded. “That’s why you had us bring you here. Isn’t it? So Mr. Haglemann could explain—”
“What? What the fuck are you talking about?” Haglemann’s face flushed, and he started spitting. “Who are you that I should explain myself to you? Get the fuck out of here right now, Otto, while you can still walk out of here under your own power! And take Dumbshit with you.”
“It’s, uh, Dumyat, sir.”
“Who gives a shit! Get out!” He looked at Bolan. “You stay, because you got some definite explaining to do.”
“Gladly,” Bolan replied.
The two men made haste to leave, not as much to follow orders as to merely extricate themselves from the suddenly malevolent presence. Corsack had warned Bolan that Haglemann was prone to sudden fits of temper, and there were even rumors among his inner circle that he took medication to control it because he wasn’t exactly right in the head. After witnessing the exchange, Bolan had to wonder if the guy was off his meds. The weight of the Beretta 93-R in his shoulder leather felt comfortable. None of the security outside had even frisked him, just assuming that the FN-FNC he’d turned over to them was his only weaponry.
That kind of slack attitude would only make Bolan’s job easier when the time came. If he acquired the intelligence he needed on the Russian Business Network, he would most likely take out Haglemann here and now under the noses of his security team. Nobody would even take notice, given Bolan had the subsonic rounds loaded in his pistol.
Haglemann went to a nearby credenza and poured himself a drink. “Can I offer you something, Mr. Blansky?”
“No, thanks.”
Haglemann poured a tumbler full of brown liquid Bolan assumed to be whiskey or brandy, from the tint. One look told him Haglemann was probably a brandy man, although he might also enjoy Scotch whisky. Haglemann took several large swallows and studied Bolan for a time.
“So tell me why I shouldn’t have you killed here and now.”
“It wouldn’t put you in well with my boss. Or should I say bosses?”
“And who exactly is it you work for?”
“Come on, Haglemann,” Bolan said, rising to his feet and shoving his hands casually in his pocket. “You don’t really think I’m going to start dropping names. We both know that our mutual interests are fond of the color red. Isn’t that good enough?”
“Afraid not,” Haglemann said. “You could be playing me for a sucker.”
“Like you’re playing those Podunk guys like Otto Lustrum and his bruisers? Those guys aren’t gangsters.” Bolan produced a mocking laugh. “We both know they couldn’t protect their own mothers, let alone your assets. Hell, they just let somebody walk onto your island and blow up your club. And my boss isn’t going to be happy when he learns two of his men are dead.”
“I thought only Zakoff was at the club.”
“What about Rov?”
“What about him?”
“Killed yesterday. Neck broken and stabbed to death.”
“What? How did that happen?”
Bolan shrugged. “Something about some kind of brawling they do near the docks. I guess your man Lustrum there runs the gambling action. The same guy who blew up your club managed to get a bout in the ring and killed Rov.”
“That dirty, stupid shit!” Haglemann downed his drink and set the tumbler roughly on the credenza, completely unconcerned it would mar the surface. “I told him to keep that stuff under control.”
“Well, it doesn’t look like he’s doing that,” Bolan said. “And now two of your associate’
s people are dead, and your operation is at risk. That’s why I was called in. I’m a specialist at these kinds of problems.”
Haglemann scowled. “I told Moscovich I didn’t need any of his help. Looks like he ignored me.”
“Out of his hands,” Bolan lied. “I was brought in by his people in St. Petersburg.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because this isn’t the first time this particular individual has interfered with their operations.”
“You mean this has happened before?”
Bolan nodded and folded his arms, looking at the floor reflectively as he spoke. “Yeah, a few years ago. They got an operation squashed in New York City. My people tell me they think it’s the same guy, since they never could figure out who did them in.”
“Well, you won’t have to worry about Otto. He’ll be in the bottom of the bay by tonight.”
“Actually, no,” Bolan said. “I need him. For at least a little while longer.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s got the manpower. This guy is tricky and moves around a lot, which is why it’s been so hard to nail him.” Bolan shook his head. “In fact, he hit us today when Lustrum came to pick me up at Maddie Corsack’s place.”
“You know Maddie?”
“Old friend.”
“From where?”
Bolan’s smile contained frost. “Now, that’s not really important. Is it?”
“It’s important to me, asshole!”
“Look, Mr. Haglemann,” Bolan said in a cool, quiet tone as he took a few steps in the man’s direction. “I’ve got no fight with you. But I also don’t work for you. I’m a free agent, and I don’t put up with any nonsense. You want to run your show, you’re entitled to do it how you like. But when it comes to me, you’ll keep a civil tongue in your head or I’ll save us all a lot of trouble and put a bullet right here.”
Bolan reached out and tapped Haglemann’s forehead with a rigid finger, adding, “You hear me?”
The action so surprised Haglemann he didn’t know how to react. He stepped back and looked at Bolan with utter surprise.
“Now that we got that settled, I need to know that if I ask for any support from you, I’ll get it. After all, it’s my job to keep you alive, and I think I can do a much better job than Otto and his boys. Do we have an agreement?”
Haglemann said nothing at first, still obviously stunned by the fact Bolan had just threatened him in a way nobody had ever done before. Oddly, Haglemann seemed to have suddenly gained a new respect for Bolan. It was exactly what the soldier counted on and the reason he’d chosen this role from his camouflage arsenal.
“Sure,” Haglemann said. “Have it your way. I don’t give a shit just as long as you get this bastard. He’s already killed more than a half-dozen of my people.”
“Good. Now, the first thing I’m going to need is a solid set of wheels,” Bolan said. “Something fast but tough.”
“Like what?”
Bolan shrugged. “SUV or a Jeep, maybe.”
“How about a Hummer?”
“That’ll do just fine,” the Executioner replied with a smile.
CHAPTER TEN
Behind the wheel of a late-model Hummer, Bolan had to wonder exactly what deity had been looking over him. He’d half expected a guy as shrewd as Davis Haglemann to figure him for the enemy, in which case he might not have left Haglemann’s property alive. Yet he’d managed to drive through the tall front gates unchallenged.
He expected Haglemann to put a tail on him, at least, and yet as he turned on to the road and headed for Corsack’s place, he didn’t get the sense anyone was following him so far. Haglemann had even agreed to explain Bolan’s involvement, give some sort of cover story, which led Bolan to conclude that Corsack had probably been right. If Lustrum or his thugs found out Haglemann was actually working alongside members of the RBN, the union boss would lose all support. It would probably also mean his life, since they wouldn’t see any reason to trust a guy like Haglemann.
Bolan shook his head at the irony of that.
Men like Lustrum shouldn’t have been trusting a guy like Haglemann to begin with. Haglemann was a businessman, a rich businessman at that, and he had no background or experience as a working stiff. Bolan couldn’t understand how he’d been able to gain the respect of the men and women on Adak who toiled and slaved through the long days. Their lives weren’t easy, and yet they stuck it out year after year, and just like Corsack had said, they couldn’t imagine going somewhere else. This was their home and they gave a damn, and a guy like Bolan, who had never really been able to call any place “home” since he’d first taken on the Mafia all those years ago in Pittsfield, could understand that.
Haglemann wasn’t anything like them, and yet the residents here had embraced him for a few extra bucks and a big-screen television. It didn’t make sense to Bolan, and he realized in that moment it was most likely because they didn’t really know what was going on. They had become victims of Haglemann’s greed and avarice just like those who had suffered at the hands of his allies.
Bolan waited until he was out of sight of Haglemann’s residence before reaching beneath his jacket and whipping the secured phone into play. He dialed Stony Man by entering a series of special codes, and in just seconds he had Price on the line.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
“I managed to get inside Haglemann’s guard,” Bolan said, “and talked to him personally.”
“You think he bought it?”
“Hard to tell.”
Bolan’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror as he made a left-hand turn on to the road that would take him to the docks. As he did, another vehicle pulled off a side road and took up a position of considerable distance behind him. Bolan knew what it meant, but he figured there was no need for alarm. At this point, it would only make sense for Haglemann to put somebody on him to watch his movements.
“I’m confident he thinks it’s the RBN who sent me,” Bolan continued. “He’s got plenty of witnesses, Lustrum included, who will verify that I was fighting on their side when the shooting started. As far as Haglemann’s concerned, I saved Lustrum’s ass, and I kept his involvement with the Russians quiet. He even lent me one of his vehicles.”
“Any chance it’s wired?”
“Doubtful,” Bolan said. “It belongs to him personally, and he wouldn’t have had time to bug the vehicle. If I thought he had me bugged, I wouldn’t be calling you.”
“Of course, I should’ve realized that,” Price said. Bolan could hear the weariness in her voice. “Sorry.”
“Forget it. So, with Haglemann on board, all I have to do is set up the rest of it.”
“Have you figured out how you’re going to do that?”
“I have a tentative plan, but it’s going to take a lot of help on your part. Haglemann’s definitely working with the Russians. What I don’t know is exactly who or what the background is. That’s where I need your help.”
“What do you need?”
“Get me all the information you can on the name Moscovich. No first name, so you’ll have to see if you can tie that into whatever intelligence is currently on hand regarding the RBN. Next, I’m going to have to get a better understanding of how they took out our military assets. Especially the cutter. That’s a very big ship to make just disappear. If they sank the vessel, there should be some hundred bodies or more that went down with her.”
“The first part will be easy,” Price replied. “The second may be a much tougher order. The military has taken sole responsibility for the investigation, and we might not be able to get the inside loop without directly involving the White House.”
“I know it’s sketchy, but I’m going to need all the intelligence I can if I hope to rip this thing apart from the inside. Also
, I’m going to head back to Unalaska for a short while.”
“Are you going to get help from the deputy chief again?”
“I have no choice. She’s my only subject-matter expert, and before she let me go, she promised to keep her ear to the ground.”
“Why not just call her?”
“I would under normal circumstances, but there’s no question Haglemann and the Russians have got operatives working there, and I plan to prevent this from happening again. That’s the biggest threat. Haglemann’s not going anywhere right now, anyway, so it’s better to play it cool.”
“Understood. We’ll get on it at this end.”
“Out here,” Bolan said, and he cut the connection.
The vehicle behind was keeping a consistent interval between them. If Bolan slowed, the pursuer followed suit. Same story for when he increased speed. That was the tough thing about roads on a place like Adak. They were long and open and had little traffic, which made vehicle surveillance nearly impossible to pull off. Bolan pulled his cell and dialed another number via a code.
When the familiar voice answered, Bolan said, “Looks like I’m going to need to call on your services again.”
“Just say where and when,” Jack Grimaldi replied.
Stony Man Farm, Virginia
WHEN BARBARA PRICE got the call from Bolan he gave her just one name: Moscovich.
Price took this information to Aaron Kurtzman who jumped on it and began a sweeping search for that name and any ties it might have to the Russian Business Network. As with most things, Kurtzman approached the situation like an attack dog on a thief. Normally, Price left him to his work and waited for Kurtzman to bring her the information, but in this case she chose to pull up a chair and watch and wait in the Annex’s Computer Room.
Within an hour, Kurtzman had gleaned everything he could, and Price contacted Brognola, who had stayed at the Farm and taken some time to get a few hours of shut-eye. When she told him what they’d found, he said, “I’ll be in the Computer Room in fifteen minutes.”
War Everlasting (Superbolan) Page 9
