“Such as?”
“Strangers? Unknown vehicles on the road?”
“Nothing I can recall. Why? Should I be worried?”
“I just want to make sure.”
The memory of the parked SUV came up.
Okay, Bolan told himself, it could be nothing.
A guy checking his maps for directions. Taking a break after a long drive. Maybe someone having a little personal time with his lady friend.
On the darker side of the coin the driver of the parked SUV might have been waiting for an opportunity to pay Clair a call.
Bolan had that anticipatory feeling he had experienced too many times. A growing sensation that things might be moving along on a new track. Since his strike at the airfield and his visit to Don Lawrence’s apartment, the opposition might be upping their own game. Wanting to take stock of an unsettling situation.
“Clair, do you trust me enough to do what I’m going to ask next?”
“If Ethan trusted you there’s no question.”
“This is what we do then...”
Chapter 8
Delbert watched as the tall, dark-haired guy left the house, Sorin’s sister standing at the door and seeing him off. The guy fit the description Lawrence had given. There was no mistaking the size of the man, the confident way he carried himself. Delbert watched as the guy got into the car, offered a brief wave, then drove off. The girl stood watching until he vanished, then went back inside the house.
Taking out his cell Delbert called Corrigan.
“The son of a bitch was just at the sister’s place. Big mother. Six foot plus. Looks like he could handle himself. Just like Lawrence described.”
“He still there?”
“Uh-uh. Just got in his car and wheeled out.”
“Our boy gets around,” Corrigan said.
“Sorin still my priority?”
“Until I say different.”
“I’ll go make talk with the sister.”
“Del, do what you need to. Just get her to spill before you put her out of her misery.”
“I can do that.”
Delbert completed the call and put away the cell. He opened the glove box and checked the suppressed Glock autopistol and the scalpel in its slim sheath. He had found that the minute people saw a cold, gleaming scalpel blade they became extremely cooperative very quickly; surgical steel might not have instant killing power, but when Delbert wanted answers he needed something to enforce his questions in a less brutal way. He slid the Glock into the custom shoulder rig under his jacket and the scalpel in the side pocket.
He studied the layout of house and stables from his vantage point, parked off the road on the wide grass verge, a stand of trees with drooping branches shading his vehicle. He used a pair of powerful binoculars to move between the buildings. There seemed to be only one employee at the stable. A slim young woman seeing to the stabled horses. Delbert saw her finish her tasks, then walk to the house and go inside. She emerged a few minutes later and moved out of sight down the side of the house. Shortly after, a bright red Mini Cooper drove into sight. It rolled down the drive, turned left and picked up speed as it went down the quiet road.
“Delbert, my brother, now is the time.”
He fired up the SUV and swung onto the road, drove up to the gate and along the drive. He parked at the side of the house and climbed out. Apart from the occasional horse noises from the stable, the place was enveloped in a hushed silence.
Delbert walked to the front door. It stood open and he could see the hall, the wood floor polished and gleaming. As he stepped over the threshold he picked up the sound of a clock ticking. A sonorous tone that spoke of money and permanency.
His soft-soled shoes made no sound as he moved along the hall, checking out each door as he passed. A large, well-furnished living room that looked out on the drive. Empty. At the far end of the hall he could make out the kitchen. Then he reached another open door on his right. Before he got to the entrance he saw that the wall shelves were filled with books.
Library?
Office?
A large oak desk stood in the wide bay window that looked across at the stables. A computer sat on the desk. The woman he had seen talking to her recent visitor was seated at the desk, concentrating on the spread of papers in front of her. She still had on the same clothes she’d been wearing earlier—a sweater, tight jodhpurs and leather riding boots. Delbert smiled. He could always appreciate a good-looking woman.
Especially if he might have to interrogate her.
Delbert reached into his pocket and drew out the sheathed scalpel. He slid the blade free, dropping the sheath back into his pocket as he crossed the floor. He got to within a couple of feet of the seated woman.
That was when she spoke.
“Your reflection in the window has given you away,” she said in an even tone.
Delbert dropped his free hand on her shoulder, fingers squeezing hard into her flesh. He was annoyed with himself for making such an error.
“Not going to save you though,” he said. “I got questions about your brother you need to answer, bitch, and if I don’t get what I need... Well, let’s say I’ll cut your pretty face into bloody ribbons.”
“You’d hurt me?” Clair Sorin said.
“Damn right.”
“Wrong,” a quiet voice said from just behind Delbert.
Confusion held Delbert for a couple of seconds, but before he even turned he knew who he would see.
The big, dark-haired man who had driven away from the house. The guy Delbert had watched vanish along the quiet country road. Son of a bitch must have parked some distance away and walked back, coming in through the rear of the house.
Delbert pivoted on one foot, the scalpel extended as he caught a glimpse of the big American. Delbert slashed the blade at him, intending a swift cut across the throat. The move didn’t even make it to the halfway point. Bolan’s hands swept up in a defensive arc. The right caught Delbert’s wrist just below the hand, twisting hard so that bones moved, wrenched out of place. Delbert gasped, letting go of the scalpel as his fingers became numb. He was more used to inflicting pain than receiving it. Bolan’s left hand also moved. Bunched into a large fist it slammed into Delbert’s nose, crushing it into a blood-spurting mess. Delbert expelled a wild roar of pain. He swung his left at the big guy, intending to land a telling blow, but Bolan swayed to one side, avoiding the fist. He lashed out with his right foot, slamming it against Delbert’s right knee. The kick was delivered with all of Bolan’s muscular weight behind it. Delbert’s knee simply collapsed under the crippling impact, and everything beneath the flesh turned to mush. The blow had totally pulverized Delbert’s knee. He let out an agonized scream as he went down, hugging his ruined limb, any malicious thoughts directed at Clair and Bolan forgotten in his new world of all-enveloping pain.
Bolan bent and frisked the man. He found Delbert’s suppressed Glock and his cell. He dropped the pistol and the phone on Clair’s desk, then retrieved the discarded scalpel and placed it next to the gun. When Clair saw it she was unable to repress a shudder.
“Would he really have used it?” she asked, because this sudden world of violence had no place in her life.
“These people have no respect for life,” Bolan said. “This is how they operate. And, yes, he would have used it.”
Clair’s face was bloodless and she was suddenly trembling with shock.
“And what about you, Matt Cooper? You don’t come across as an advocate of moderation.”
“What should I have done, Clair? Reasoned with him? Tried to talk him down?”
Her cheeks flushed. “I meant... Oh, dammit, I don’t know what I meant. You just saved me from God knows what and here I am preaching at you.” She stepped close, impulsively throwing he
r arms around Bolan’s neck and hugging him. “I’m sorry. It’s just...” And then she began to sob, her body heaving as reaction to the situation took over.
Bolan held her gently to him. He understood. Her quiet, settled life had been invaded by a violent turn of events she had never witnessed before. She was entitled to be upset. The resentment would come later—the anger directed toward the people responsible for this incident. That would be when Bolan might gain some insight into Ethan Sorin’s whereabouts. No guarantees, but Mack Bolan always hoped that something good might come from initial setbacks.
Delbert’s pained sounds had reduced to a low moan. He hugged his shattered knee and bled from his broken nose.
Clair’s intense grip on Bolan slackened as she brought herself under control. She remained close, her warmth and the scent of her perfume not unpleasant sensations. Her hair stroked his cheek, reminding Bolan how often he missed out on life’s more simple pleasures.
She cleared her throat. “Matt, I’ll be fine now.”
“Don’t rush on my account,” he said gently.
She raised her head and stared at him. Despite the tears that moistened her cheeks she still managed to look beautiful.
“I...should thank you for what you just did.” Clair kissed him on the cheek, her lips remaining for long seconds before she stepped slowly away from him.
“Thank you, Matt.” A moan from Delbert caught her attention and she stared down at the man. “What happens to him now?”
“He’ll be taken care of,” Bolan said.
“I don’t know if I care for whatever that means.”
“I’m going to call the people Ethan works for. They’ll handle him. Ask him the right questions. Just remember who he works for.”
“Bad people?”
“The worst.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“This guy showing up goes a long way to prove what I’ve been thinking. If Ethan were dead they’d have no reason to try to get to you, asking questions.”
“You mean they don’t know where Ethan is, either?”
“Seems likely.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
Bolan nodded. “Hey, I think we both could do with some of that coffee we had before.”
Clair looked at him. “A hint for me to leave you alone?”
Bolan held up the cell he’d retrieved from Delbert.
“I need to make a call.”
Clair nodded and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Bolan checked the phone, locating the call log. The last call Delbert had made was very recent. Bolan figured the time must have been shortly before he made his visit to the house. Bolan hit the redial key and listened as the phone rang. The call was answered after the fourth ring.
“Del? If you got her to talk already that’s fast.”
“Del fell down on the job,” Bolan said. “His next stop will be a cell somewhere not very pleasant.”
“Who is this?”
“Think about Don Lawrence. Your pickup crew at the airfield. Getting the picture now? And I’m only just getting warmed up.”
“Do you really believe you can do us any real harm? We are bigger than one man.”
“Just keep sending me idiots like Del and we’ll see.”
“Son of a bitch, we’ll get to you. We’ll get to Sorin, too. He can run but it doesn’t matter where. We’ll find him.”
“I’ll take that into consideration,” Bolan said. “Just pass my message on to your board of directors. The numbers are already falling and they’re due for retirement. The permanent kind of retirement.”
Bolan cut the call and switched the cell off.
Delbert was staring up at him, his face gleaming with sweat from the pain in his knee.
“Something to contribute, Del?”
“They won’t let go,” the fallen man said. “They got people all over.”
Bolan managed a smile. “If they expect to get anywhere, Del, let’s hope they’re better and smarter than you.”
Taking out his own cell Bolan called Henning.
“I’m at Clair Sorin’s place. She had an unwelcome visitor. The kind who uses a suppressed Glock and a scalpel as calling cards. Big guy who calls himself Delbert. He’s likely to be on your most-wanted list. Now you’ve got him. He threatened Clair with the scalpel if she didn’t tell him where her brother is.”
“She okay?”
“Fine now. You want to send some of your people over to take him away? They might be able to gain some useful information if they get him to talk.”
Henning drew breath. “Bloody hell, Cooper, you mean he’s still alive? You getting soft in your old age?”
“I might be hurt at that remark if I didn’t know you were being facetious. We had a little scuffle, but Delbert is alive. Better send your medic along, though. Del has a sore knee and nose, is all.”
Henning chuckled. “Yeah, right.”
“I haven’t mentioned moving to Clair yet,” Bolan said, “but I know she won’t go, so a protection team might be in order.”
“She’ll get one,” Henning said. “We look after our own. I’ll make sure she gets the best.”
“You just do that.”
“You’ll stay around until Clair is covered?”
Bolan told him yes and they finished the call.
* * *
IT TOOK THE TEAM just under an hour to show up. Two SUVs with four people in each and a third vehicle that turned out to have a couple of paramedics on board. As they emerged from the vehicles Bolan saw they were all well-armed with a combination of handguns and SMGs
“Henning told us to ask for Cooper,” the team leader said when Bolan met them at the door. “That you? I’m Tom Hanley.”
Bolan nodded. “In here,” he said and led them into the kitchen where Delbert was seated on a wooden chair, secured with duct tape.
“I want my lawyer,” Delbert demanded. “I got rights.”
The team leader managed a tight grin. “Funny how they all get righteous when they get caught.” He glanced at Delbert. “You got it wrong. We don’t do lawyers. You, my son, are on your own.”
Bolan said, “He threatened Miss Sorin with the Glock and the scalpel.”
“Fuck you,” Delbert said. “You can’t prove a damn thing.”
“Del, you wearing gloves?”
“What?”
“I can see you’re not. So your prints are all over those items.”
Delbert scowled. “He attacked me, man. Broke my nose and my fucking knee.”
“Fellers,” Hanley said to the medics, “deal with this piece of garbage. I want him ready to travel in ten minutes. He gives you any lip fill him full of tranquilizers.”
“Where you taking me?” Delbert asked.
Hanley shook his head. “Somewhere you don’t want to know about.”
“I don’t mind if you drop him on the way out,” Clair said. She had stood aside during the initial appearance of the team, but now she reached out to shake Hanley’s hand. “I’m glad to see you and your people.”
“Good to see you’re unharmed.”
“Thanks to Matt. If he hadn’t been here I hate to think how this might have turned out.”
“Henning said you’re looking for Ethan.” Hanley checked the tall American. “This some new angle? I mean, you’re not on any of the OrgCrime teams I know.”
Bolan smiled. It was a question asked of him on any number of occasions. “Let’s just say I work the game a different way.”
“Henning said not to ask too many questions. He said you were on the right side though.” Hanley glanced across at Delbert. “Can’t argue about that.”
Things moved quickly after that.
Delbert, still protesting and threatening, was taken out to the paramedics’ vehicle and driven away.
Hanley’s team established themselves in a room Clair led them to. There were already CCTV cameras attached to the house and stables, so the team simply tapped in using digital connections. They had a number of flat-screen monitors displaying images.
“Please don’t tell me you have a helicopter overhead as well,” Clair said drily.
Hanley grinned. “See what she’s like, Cooper. How can you deal with her?” He added, “Actually, Miss Smarty Pants, we can connect to a satellite feed if we need to.”
“I’m impressed,” Clair said.
“There will also be a protection team around 24/7 until we resolve this problem. Inside the house and around the grounds.”
Clair made a glum face. “Oh, God,” she said. “That means I’ll be making pots of tea day and night.”
“Don’t forget the bacon sandwiches,” Hanley said.
Clair touched his arm. “Thank you. I mean it.”
“No problem, love. That brother of yours would make my life hell if we didn’t look after you.”
Hanley took Bolan aside and they wandered outside.
“We’ll make sure she stays safe,” he said.
“I never doubted it,” Bolan said.
“Schiller and Cobb being killed the way they were... Bloody hell, they were executed. It hit the OrgCrime squad hard. Then Ethan vanishing kind of topped it off. These bastards are just showing us they don’t respect us. Don’t recognize us as any threat. Trouble is, our hands are tied by so much damned legislation and red tape we have to get signed off before we even think about making moves. We make headway on paper, but that’s as far as it gets. We have the information but it’s like we’re toothless.” Hanley stopped and turned to face Bolan. “When we heard what had happened at the airfield there was a bloody great cheer in our office. Cooper, I can’t claim to understand who or what you are. The hell with that. If you can keep hitting these bastards, you go on doing it. Any help I can offer, just call.”
Bolan nodded. “I might take you up on that.” He turned and pointed at the dark blue SUV. “That’s Delbert’s. You mind if I take a look inside?”
Hostile Force Page 5
