Zero Option. Don Pendleton

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      CHAPTER ONE

      Nassau, Bahamas

      Jack Grimaldi pushed through the hangar door and made his way to the office on the far side. He could see Jess Buchanan through the glass partition. The young woman was bent over a high desk, working on a flight plan for an upcoming charter flight.

      The Stony Man pilot had known the young woman for some months, ever since she had been caught up in a mission involving Able Team. Grimaldi had stepped in when Jess had been threatened, dealing with the perpetrators. Since then he had visited her on Nassau whenever he could. The pair had a natural camaraderie that allowed them to enjoy each other’s company. This particular visit had added interest. Grimaldi had persuaded Mack Bolan to fly across to Nassau. The Executioner had taken one of his infrequent R&R breaks, and Grimaldi had gained a deal of satisfaction when Bolan had agreed to join him. The soldier had met Jess once before, so they were all anticipating a quiet few days. For Bolan and Grimaldi it would be a welcome break from the ongoing visits to the war zones and the ongoing struggles against the evil that ravaged the world.

      Jess glanced up as Grimaldi neared the office, waving a hand behind the glass. As usual when working, she wore coveralls and a long-peaked baseball cap over her blond hair.

      “Hey, Tex, how’s the Alamo?” she asked.

      Grimaldi smiled. The remark was a throwback to the first time they had met. Grimaldi had been using a cover ID that had him as a Texan. She sometimes teased him by recalling the cover name, just to catch him off guard.

      “Ha, ha, ha,” he said.

      As he drew near, he slipped an arm around her slim waist and kissed her on the cheek. Buchanan turned her head to eye him.

      “Is that the best you can do?”

      “During office hours. You never know when the boss might be around.”

      “I am the boss. Remember?”

      “Hell, so you are,” Grimaldi said and completed his greeting.

      “Now that’s more like it, Tex.”

      For a moment the woman drifted away, her mind occupied by something else.

      “Still thinking about that phone message?”

      “Sorry, Jack. I know it’s crazy but I get the feeling there was more to it. I know I haven’t seen Uncle Doug for some time, but he sounded strange. Like he wasn’t sure about things. Damn, it’s hard to explain.”

      “You know him better than me.”

      “I hope he calls again. Last time I saw him was when we buried Dad. He calls and I’m out. And what did he mean about keeping quiet about his call? Not talking to strangers? Jesus, Jack, I missed his call.”

      “No way you could have known he was going to get in touch, Jess. Likely he’ll call again. Don’t give yourself a hard time.”

      She nodded.

      “So what’s on the agenda today?” Grimaldi asked.

      “The choice is yours.”

      Grimaldi glanced at his watch. “Lunch. Then waste time till Mike arrives. Figure we work something out.”

      “I’ll need to tidy up. Get into some clean clothes. Can you wait while I do that?”

      “I can do better. How about I come and help?”

      Buchanan laughed, pushing him away.

      “If I let you do that, we’ll be eating at midnight.”

      “Romantic meal under the stars sounds good,” Grimaldi said.

      Before she could respond, the sound of the hangar door being slammed open caught her attention. Through the office window she and Grimaldi were able to see a group of five men. They paused to locate themselves, then started across the hangar floor, one hanging back to cover the entrance door.

      “Who are they, Jess?” Grimaldi asked.

      She shook her head. “I’ve never seen any of them before.”

      “Do they look like potential customers to you?”

      “Not impossible, but I somehow don’t think so. They look more like FBI. Or IRS.”

      Buchanan moved to the door and stepped through into the main hangar, followed by Grimaldi.

      For some reason he felt himself growing tense. There was something almost official about the group. Not just the uniform way they were dressed, but more in the way they handled themselves, how they walked, checking out their surroundings, one of them hanging back to cover the door, slightly turning so he could see out across the strip. He kept his right hand close to the fastened button on his suit jacket. Just so he could quickly get to the shoulder-holstered handgun he was carrying. Grimaldi had already spotted the slight bulge under every jacket. It was so slight that it would be missed by the average citizen.

      But Grimaldi was no average citizen, and there was no way these people were customers. His suspicions made him step forward, slightly in front, blocking Buchanan from the men. His stance, outwardly easy, told them he was on the alert, watching for any problems.

      At the forefront of Grimaldi’s mind was the telephone message from Jess’s uncle.

      Don’t talk to strangers.

      “What can I do for you?” Grimaldi asked.

      The lead man, his white-blond hair cut short, body solid under the loose folds of his suit, turned his head slightly so he could see Buchanan over Grimaldi’s shoulder—but he spoke directly at Grimaldi.

      “Are you Jess Buchanan, mister?”

      “No.”

      “Then I don’t have business with you, and you are interfering in mine.”

      Buchanan touched Grimaldi’s arm, moving to stand beside him. “I’m Jess Buchanan. What do you want?”

      “We need you to come with us. No arguments. No questions. You just do it.”

      “Just like that? You walk into my place and I do exactly what you want?”

      The man smiled as if he were calming an unruly puppy. “Now there’s a good girl. You see. No fuss. No bother.” Then his manner changed in an instant, the smile turning cold as Grimaldi tensed and put out a warning hand. “I already gave you an order, mister.”

      “Order? Where do you think you are, friend? This isn’t a military base and you’re no damned squad leader.”

      “No?”