Zero Option. Don Pendleton

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СКАЧАТЬ ran him into a firewall on his first attempt. It went so far, then threw up a block. That was its first mistake. Kurtzman didn’t like being denied access to information. So he had pulled back and brought up one of his own programs, using it to bypass the card company’s firewall. He had just requested his program to worm its way into the card company’s database when Bolan and Brognola had visited. Now they had gone, Kurtzman turned back to his computer’s search and checked on the results. A smile creased his face as he read what the search had produced. He was into the card company’s database. His program had overcome the firewall put up by the security system. All Kurtzman had to do now was trace the ownership of the card, and it would point the finger at whoever was financing the people who had attacked Jack Grimaldi and Jess Buchanan.

      THE BLACKSUIT PILOT behind the controls of the helicopter nodded as Bolan and Brognola settled in their seats behind him.

      “Any update on Jack, sir?” he asked.

      “Nothing new. He’s going to be out of action for a few weeks, but he’ll be okay.”

      “Glad to hear it. Hope everything works out okay. He was really looking forward to his break on Nassau. All he talked about the last few days before he left.”

      “He’d be pleased to know people are thinking about him,” Bolan told him.

      “Yeah, they sure are, sir. Hell of a guy.”

      Bolan sat back as the chopper rose into the air and gained altitude.

      “Hell of a guy” didn’t even scratch the surface when it came to describing Jack Grimaldi.

      RAIN PELTED the helicopter as it touched down on the well-tended lawn behind the White House. The pilot shut off the power and the rotors began to slow, making a soft pulse of sound as they cut the air.

      A pair of dark-suited Secret Service agents came out to meet Bolan and Brognola as they ran across the grass to the entrance that would admit them to the President’s residence.

      “The President is expecting you,” one of the agents said. He was staring at the slight, telltale bulge under Bolan’s jacket.

      “You need to take it?” Bolan asked, preempting the agent’s thoughts. He opened his jacket to expose the holstered Beretta 93-R.

      A muscle in the agent’s jaw twitched slightly. He cleared his throat.

      “The President has sanctioned your right to keep your weapon, sir.”

      “I appreciate that.”

      The agent held Bolan’s gaze for a heartbeat.

      “If you’d feel more comfortable, I’ll hand it over,” Bolan said evenly.

      “That won’t be necessary, sir. Thanks for your cooperation.” The agent turned his gaze on Brognola. “Same concession goes for you, as well, Mr. Brognola. Would you both come this way.”

      The agents led the men to a thickly carpeted hallway that deadened the sound of their passing. They paused at the door to the Oval Office. One of the agents tapped on the door, which was opened by one of the White House staff members who spoke briefly to the agent before withdrawing. He reappeared moments later, beckoning to Bolan and Brognola.

      “The President is ready to see you.”

      Bolan let the big Fed step inside first, then followed close behind. The staff member retreated, closing the door behind him, leaving the men alone with the President of the United States.

      The Man came from behind his desk, holding out a hand to greet Brognola. The President’s jacket was draped over the back of his chair behind the desk and his sleeves were rolled partway up his arms.

      “Hal,” he said.

      “Sir.”

      The President turned his attention to the Executioner. It was a rare happening for the President to actually meet the man he was in the habit of sending out to do dangerous work on behalf of the nation. Before he even had words with Bolan, the President realized this was someone he could trust. The soldier had a presence, a quiet confidence that reached out and confirmed his devotion to country and duty. It was a rare thing, especially in the current climate of mistrust and deceit, and despite being hailed as the most powerful man in the world, the President found he felt safe being in the same room as Mack Bolan.

      “Glad you could make it, Striker,” the President said, holding out his hand.

      Bolan took it, feeling the firm grip of the President.

      “Did Hal fill you in with the details?”

      “No, sir,” Brognola interrupted. “I wanted this to come directly to him when the three of us were together.”

      “There’s fresh coffee over there. Help yourselves before we start.” The President crossed to the tray resting on a small table and poured himself a mug. “Anyone?”

      “Black for me,” Bolan said.

      “Nothing for me just now,” Brognola said.

      Bolan took the mug the President handed him. He waited until the Man had taken his place behind his desk, then settled himself in one of the comfortable chairs facing the desk. Brognola sat on his left.

      “Cards on the table, gentlemen,” the President said evenly. “We have a problem brewing and you, Striker, however you want to call it, seem to have become involved.” The President allowed himself a quick smile. “Not the first time that has happened, either.”

      “No, sir.”

      “Hal has given me the details of your involvement from the start, up to the present, so we don’t need to go through that again. I also understand that your people at Stony Man are working on material Striker brought back with him, Hal?”

      “Yes, sir, and we do have some feedback already,” Brognola said. “It’s a little early to give us definite connections, though.”

      “Cards on the table?” Bolan interrupted, leaning forward in his seat. He caught Brognola’s warning glance but chose to ignore it. “I’m picking up a feeling of urgency, so I’m going to play my hand.

      “From evidence I picked up in Nassau and the people who were waiting for me at the airport, we came up with two names. The man in charge of the team who took Jess Buchanan and attacked Jack Grimaldi is an ex-military man named Calvin Ryan. The other man is Paul Meeker. Meeker was part of Ryan’s special-ops team. Their commanding officer in the army was Colonel Orin Stengard, and Stengard is a known associate of—”

      “Senator Eric Stahl,” the President said. He glanced at Brognola. “Hal? What do you make of this?”

      “Right now they’re just names and tenuous connections, Mr. President.”

      “But in the context of what I’m about to explain to Striker, don’t you feel those connections are too strong to ignore?”

      “As we’re off the record and this goes no further, my personal feelings are that Stengard and Stahl are involved right up their necks, Mr. President. On past records concerning their political and personal views, I have to admit СКАЧАТЬ