Hazard Zone. Don Pendleton

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СКАЧАТЬ been on a trail that leads to nowhere. And now with a senator dead, getting anything useful will be twice as hard.” He moved to look out the window.

      “Sounds frustrating,” Bolan said. “But what can you tell me that I need to know before I go looking for answers?”

      “What you really need to know about are the posses. Everything else is just window dressing.”

      “Posses?” he asked, playing dumb. “Like the Old West?”

      “No,” Anders said, chuckling. “The posses are Jamaican gangs, but unlike most of the inner-city thugs you see in the U.S., these guys are organized and revered. They control the neighborhoods with money, drugs, weapons, you name it. The police don’t have half their power or influence, and the posses actually wield political power because they control the people here.”

      “How likely is it that one of these posses was involved in Amber Carson’s death?”

      “Very likely,” Anders said. “Almost guaranteed.”

      He reached for a file on his desk. Flipping through the pages, he opened to a picture of a body in a morgue. Centered in the frame was a tattoo on the right arm of the deceased—a grim reaper cradling a skull. “Take a look at this,” he said. “The Undead Posse.”

      “They sound charming,” Bolan said. “Why are they called the Undead Posse?”

      “If you ask the locals,” Anders replied, “it’s because their leader is actually one of the living dead.”

      “Really,” Bolan said, handing the folder back to Anders. “The living dead?”

      “I’m not kidding,” he said. “You’ve heard of voodoo, yes?”

      Bolan nodded. In fact he was all too familiar.

      Anders tossed the folder back onto his desk. “The locals believe that this new posse, the Undead Posse, is being led by some kind of…” He shrugged. “I don’t even know what the hell to call it. Someone back from the dead, but not a zombie or a vampire. Or maybe it’s a zombie. Who the hell knows?”

      “Tell me about the posses in general,” Bolan replied.

      Anders returned to his desk and sat down, gesturing for Bolan to do the same. “Like I told you, they’re gangs, but better run than anything I’ve ever heard about in the U.S. They run drugs, mostly, here and in the U.S. Very big in Miami, New York and up into Canada. But they’re willing to fight with automatic weapons over turf—drive-bys are common—and they don’t fear law enforcement at all.”

      “Why are they tolerated?” Bolan asked, thinking of all the various forms of organized crime that he’d rooted out over the years.

      “Because they’re everywhere,” Anders replied simply. “They outnumber law enforcement, have more money and better guns. When arrests are attempted, the people riot in the streets because the posses supply them with drugs, food, money and protection.”

      “So why do you think this Undead Posse was involved in Amber Carson’s murder?” Bolan said.

      “The dead man in the picture,” he said. “That tattoo is their symbol. He was found near the resort where she was staying. His throat had been cut.”

      “Professional or personal?” Bolan asked.

      “Probably both,” Anders replied. “The posses hand out their own form of justice. It’s likely he’s the one who killed her and when his posse leader found out, he was executed for it.”

      “Case closed,” Bolan said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

      Anders shrugged again. “It’s where the trail leads,” he said. “I’ve seen it before down here.”

      “It seems a little convenient to me,” Bolan replied. “So if the killings here are personal, why take out a senator’s daughter? Or is that coincidence?”

      Anders shrugged and looked away. He looked back and Bolan knew that the next words out of his mouth were going to be a lie. He didn’t care about territorial people, but liars who were supposed to be on his team were bothersome. Anders started to speak and Bolan held up his hand.

      “Look, Anders, I don’t know what crap you’re getting ready to spout, but just…don’t. If there is a link to the senator that you suspect, then you need to let me know. If not, you’re likely to have a bad day. I don’t care about political garbage, I care about getting the people who did this and seeing them brought to justice.”

      Anders took a step back and looked up at Bolan.

      “No bullshit.”

      “No bullshit.”

      “All right, there are drugs and guns coming out of Jamaica, and we can’t seem to stem the flow.”

      “What does that have to do with the senator?”

      “Someone is helping them and I intend to find the culprit,” Anders said.

      “She was staying at the Goldshore Resort, according to what I’ve got on file.”

      “That’s right,” he said. “Are you going to check it out?”

      “Yes,” Bolan said. “There’s something about all this that sets my teeth on edge.”

      “What aren’t you telling me?” Anders asked. “If I knew more, maybe I could help more. You said no bullshit.”

      “Maybe so,” Bolan said, standing up. “But if I told you, I’d have to kill you.” He stared hard at the man. “We wouldn’t want that, now, would we?”

      “Funny,” Anders said. “But you aren’t the first CIA badass to try that with me. If you get serious, let me know if you want my help. Jamaica isn’t like most playgrounds. The mix of serious thugs with tourists is a pressure cooker, and the locals have no problem sending a clear message that if they aren’t left alone to do as they wish, they will seriously damage the notion of an ideal tourist spot. Other than that, there’s nothing else I can offer you.”

      “I don’t need anything else,” he said. “I’ll see myself out.”

      “Good,” Anders said, not bothering to rise or offer to shake hands again. “And, Agent Cooper?”

      Bolan stopped halfway to the door and turned back. “Yes?”

      “Obeah may seem like superstitious nonsense, but it’s very real to the people who believe in it. I advise you to be careful. Lots of people just…disappear in Jamaica.”

      “I’m always careful, Mr. Anders,” Bolan replied. “It’s why I’m still alive and so many of my enemies aren’t.” He turned his back on the man and walked out the door.

      3

      Bolan parked his rental car across the street from the Goldshore Villas Resort. He knew from reading the dossier on Amber Carson that she’d been staying there, in her father’s condominium, while in Jamaica. СКАЧАТЬ