Hellfire Code. Don Pendleton

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СКАЧАТЬ moment since the Russian-American had called to say Downing wanted to meet personally. He had a plan in place, and once he heard what Downing had to say he planned to tell the guy where to get off, then take Malaya and Corinne and beat it out of here.

      Neely took comfort in the weight of the 9 mm SIG-Sauer pistol concealed at the small of his back beneath the loose flower-print shirt he wore. His clothing would have seemed absurd most anywhere else, but it fit the part of a gaudy, wide-eyed tourist perfectly. The short haircut would have most pegging him as a career military, probably Navy, on shore leave and looking for a bit of action. And that was exactly what he wanted them to think.

      Neely rounded the corner and found the first cab in a group lined along the sidewalk. As the afternoon turned toward evening, people would start leaving the cool interiors and enjoying the ocean breezes that blew off the Pacific. The cabbies waited for them like vultures circling desert carrion, hopeful for an easy fare to the uptown area of Manila crammed with clubs and local watering holes.

      Neely leaned through the window and handed the cabdriver a twenty-dollar bill. “This is yours if you agree to leave here now, drive to the downtown area and then circle back.”

      The cabbie expressed suspicion as he pulled an unlit cigarette from his mouth. “What’s the catch?”

      “No catch,” Neely said. “Another cab might follow you, but don’t worry about that. Now I’m out of time, so do it or don’t.”

      “Done,” the cabbie said as he snatched the twenty.

      While the cabbie started his engine, Neely turned and found shelter in the vestibule of an apartment complex. The follower rounded the corner a moment later as the cab sped from the area. The man obviously figured Neely was in the cab, because he jumped into the back of the next available car and gestured for the driver to follow. Neely watched through the long, narrow window of the apartment building as they pulled away. After about a minute lapsed, Neely stepped onto the street and continued toward the address the Russian-American had given him for the meet.

      Neely took personal satisfaction at the thought of surprise on the man’s face once he realized he’d been duped.

      GARRETT DOWNING SAT with Alek Stezhnya and awaited Neely’s arrival. Stezhnya had seemed impatient during the vigil, and Downing couldn’t resist a smile. Despite the fact Stezhnya was a professional soldier, his youth and inexperience in some matters made him a bit impetuous. Not that Downing minded all that much. Downing had a special interest in games like chess, where only his intellect and savvy would see him through. He’d excelled at these things at the War College in Bethesda and later in the NSA.

      If there was one thing people couldn’t have said about Downing, though, it was that he was self-serving. He believed in America—cherished the Constitutional concepts of freedom and security—but he thought enough time had gone by that the government should be doing a better job of protecting the country. Sure, the President and his predecessors had talked up a great game about pursuing the terrorists abroad, not giving them a chance to attack the country once more, but Downing didn’t see much accomplishment. If anything, the American taxpayers had shelled out billions of dollars to bring down the dictators and political radicals of the world, and really very little to combat true terrorism.

      Well, Downing believed they had reached a point where enough was enough. The people were sick of paying the high price of freedom, and seeing nothing in the results to make it seem as if the investment were paying off. In the next forty-eight hours, Downing planned to change all that.

      Downing stood and went to the portable bar of his makeshift office. These weren’t ideal surroundings, but it worked for this kind of meeting.

      “Would you like a drink?” Downing asked Stezhnya.

      “No, sir,” Stezhnya replied. “You know I don’t drink.”

      Downing shrugged, poured a double malt Scotch whiskey over rocks and then turned and smiled at Stezhnya as he studied him over the rim of his glass. “That’s right. Dulls the senses, clouds the mind, and all that rot. Right?”

      Stezhnya’s smile looked forced. “Something like that, sir.”

      “Do you think I’m crazy?”

      “Sir?”

      “Don’t be surly, Alek,” Downing said as he took another sip of his drink and returned to his seat. “I asked you if you think I’m crazy.”

      Stezhnya shrugged. “I suppose some people might think of you as crazy, sir.”

      “I didn’t ask you what other people think, I asked what you think.” Downing didn’t make it a habit to let people off the hook so easily.

      “No, sir. I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re eccentric.”

      “Good,” Downing said. He slapped the thigh of one leg crossed over the other and leaned back in the chair. “I’d hate to think you see yourself as working for some crazy. I’m not a nutcase, you know.”

      “I never thought you were, sir,” Stezhnya replied evenly.

      Downing considered his glass for a time, and finally said, “I love my country, is all. Perhaps too much. And I’m sorry about the loss of innocent people. Very sorry.”

      “As am I,” Stezhnya interjected in a quiet voice.

      “Bah, I don’t blame you, Alek,” Downing said. “You were responsible for the mission, sure, and it didn’t go as planned. Still, you got the job done. That’s the important thing. What I am trying to say, and not very well, is I’d trade the lives of a few countrymen over an entire country. Including my own.”

      Stezhnya nodded and then looked at his watch. “Neely’s late.”

      “He’ll be here,” Downing said.

      A rap at the door caused the Russian-American commando to jump to his feet and reach beneath his jacket. Downing raised a hand to signal he should relax and then gestured toward the door. Stezhnya padded across the room and opened the door a crack, one hand inside his jacket. He opened it a little more to admit a somewhat haggard-looking Roger Neely.

      “Ah, Mr. Neely,” Downing greeted. He rose from his chair and extended a hand. Neely looked behind him and noted Stezhnya had closed and locked the door before he shook Downing’s hand. “We were just talking about you. Please, have a seat.”

      Neely took the seat Stezhnya had occupied. The Russian chose to stand over his shoulder, a move Downing noticed made Neely nervous. Well, that was fine because he needed Neely’s cooperation. Downing hated having to put Neely in a situation like this—forcing him to betray trusts and leak sensitive information—but it was for a much greater cause. Downing would not, of course, have brought any real harm to Neely’s family but he couldn’t let Neely onto that secret. Downing knew Neely would eventually attempt to escape with his wife and daughter, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that before he’d finished with the man.

      “So, we finally meet face-to-face,” Downing said with a deep sigh. “What a moment, yes?”

      “I’m thrilled to be here for it,” Neely said drolly. He cast another suspicious glance over his shoulder.

      “You’ve been a great service to us, Mr. Neely,” Downing said. “I do hope we can count on your continued СКАЧАТЬ