Act Of War. Don Pendleton

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СКАЧАТЬ you sure this is the correct way, sir?” the North Korean soldier asked, tightening his grip on the steering wheel as if it were a protective charm.

      “Shut up and drive,” the major said from behind his mirrored sunglasses, a smoking cigarette dangling from his thin lips.

      Dutifully checking the GPS device bolted onto the dashboard, the driver tried to cross the ravine again, and this time successfully found the land bridge, a natural stone arch that connected the two parts of the island like a granite umbilical cord.

      “Here we are, sir.” The driver sighed in relief, stopping the Land Rover with a squeal of brakes.

      The major scowled at the fog all around them with open dislike, then eased his tense shoulders. Women and the weather, a man could do little about either. Accept or ignore. That’s all the choice there was available.

      “Tea, sir?” a young corporal asked.

      “Please.” The major smiled, eagerly accepting a cup of the black brew from a Thermos. There was plenty of powdered milk aboard the Land Rover, but it was officially policy for soldiers to drink it with only sugar added.

      Suddenly a white light appeared on the northern horizon.

      “What is that, sir?” the driver asked, lowering his cup of tea.

      Before the major could respond, the fog was blown away by a hot wind that left an odd metallic taste in their mouths.

      Muttering curses, the major turned in the passenger seat and fumbled among the equipment boxes in the back to unearth a Geiger counter. The safety instrument added at the last minute in case of any trouble. The hidden cache of tactical nukes purchased on the black market needed to be checked every few days to make sure that none of the troops had decided to get rich quick and sell the bombs on the black market again. At least that one fool who tried put it on eBay first, the major noted, switching on the radiation counter. His death in one of the dreaded learning centers had been particularly gruesome.

      Spitting away the cigarette, the major waited for the Geiger to warm up, then exhaled in heartfelt relief as the meter stayed in the green zone, a long way from danger. Good. The nukes were the key to the huge North Korean army crossing the sixteen miles of the DMZ, the dark soil of the demilitarized zone so packed with land mines that sometimes even tiny birds landing on the ground set off a string of fiery explosions.

      “Do not worry, Private,” the North Korean officer said with confidence. “There is no danger.” But the light kept getting brighter, the wind stronger, and there was a weird prickly sensation on his skin as if he was being stabbed by a million tiny needles.

      “If you say so, sir,” the driver said, hunching his shoulder and trying to look directly at the terrible white light. There was a low rumble building rapidly, the ground shaking enough to jiggle the speedometer in the dashboard.

      Observing that reaction, the major openly cursed and thumped the Geiger counter with a fist. The needle in the meter promptly fell off, leaving behind a smear of dried glue.

      Glancing up in horror, the major looked at the mushroom clouds forming exactly where the weapons cache was supposed to be located. Then everything went black. Reaching up to touch his face, the major cringed at the realization that he was blind.

      “Sir, are you okay?” the driver asked, a raised arm blocking his face from the deadly illumination.

      “Just fine, Private,” the officer said in a deceptively calm voice as he reached into his shirt pocket and extracted a pack of cigarettes. “At ease. Care for a smoke?”

      Startled by the uncharacteristic generosity, the driver started to reach for a cigarette, then suddenly realized the truth of the matter. Screaming hysterically, he jumped from the Land Rover and raced insanely through the bushes until reaching the land bridge. Maybe…if he dropped down far enough…away from the blast…

      Running straight off the side of the granite bridge, the private was still falling toward the rocks below when the ground seemed to heave upward to meet him halfway as the underground nukes thunderously detonated.

      High above the earth, the entire Korean island vanished in a series of nuclear explosions, the expanding shock waves forming a crude bull’s-eye pattern to the watchful long-range video cameras of the orbiting UN, NATO and American spy satellites.

       Memphis, Tennessee

      B ITING BACK A CURSE , Blancanales went to stand guard near the door, a 9 mm Colt pistol in one hand, the other adjusting the radio transponder clipped to the belt under his Hawaiian shirt. He quickly found the frequencies reserved for the federal government and carefully listened for any traffic in the area. If this man wasn’t FBI or Homeland Security, that meant he was probably a mercenary sent from their enemy to kill the professor. Not sure which of those dark scenarios he preferred, the former Black Beret cycled up and down the bandwidths, even going into the forbidden military frequencies in his search.

      With a grim expression, Lyons went over every inch of the unconscious man’s clothing. Whipping out his laptop, Schwarz pressed the man’s hand to a section of plasma screen, then tapped a few buttons. After a series of low clicks, the screen came alive with a small photograph, serial number and federal dossier.

      “Mafia?” Lyons asked, looking up from his work at the telltale beep.

      “Worse. He’s FBI,” Schwarz replied, closing the computer with a snap. “The damn federal hackers at Quantico must have found out about the Icarus project and are looking for the professor.”

      “If they know, then others do, too,” Lyons muttered angrily. He’d thought the Memphis police were staring rather hard at any car with out-of-state plates. “Rosario, any chatter?”

      “Bet your ass. There’s a lot of heavily encoded traffic on two of the federal frequencies, and on a military bandwidth,” Blancanales said, wiggling his earpiece. “Company is coming, hard and fast.”

      “Gadgets, have Bear check with the staties and local P.D.,” Lyons directed. “Let’s see how badly they want the professor.”

      “All ready doing that.” Schwarz adjusted the code and frequency of the transponder clipped to his belt. “Bear says there’s nothing on the wire about the professor.” He gave a humorless smile. “Seems like the FBI wants the matter kept on the QT just as much as they want the professor alive and kicking.”

      “Okay, let’s go,” Lyons said, grabbing the gym bag and hoisting it over a shoulder. Time was against them, and every second counted. Now it was a race to find the wandering professor, before the FBI hauled him in for questioning. Or an assassination team gunned down the man on sight.

      Leaving the hotel room, Blancanales squirted glue into the dead bolt hole to seal it into place, and Schwarz peeled the backing off a small box-shaped object and pressed it to the ceiling, the sticky pad adhering tightly. Anybody trying to batter through the door would set off the motion detector in the bomb, releasing a nonlethal cloud of military BZ gas, knocking out everybody in the hallway. That would slow down the FBI a little bit, but not by much. The boys from the Bureau were smart and tough, even if their politically appointed leaders often were not.

      Going to the elevator, Lyons reached inside and hit the button for the roof, then pulled out and started for the fire exit. That was often a blind spot for folks as they firmly believed the doors could not be opened without setting off the alarms.

      As СКАЧАТЬ