Lethal Diversion. Don Pendleton

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      3

      The Detroit Emergency Operations Center was housed downtown, in a nondescript office building two blocks from the Wayne County Courthouse, and in the largest law-enforcement precinct in the city. When Bolan arrived parking was already at a premium, which meant he had quite a walk. On the other hand, the walk gave him plenty of time to observe that every branch of law enforcement, as well as fire, medical and emergency-management personnel were already present. It was a regular house party.

      He was stopped at the main entrance, but flashed his DEA credentials and got to the reception desk, where a harried-looking security guard was manning the phones. “Can I help you, sir?” he asked.

      “Matt Cooper, DEA,” he said. “I’m looking for Denny Seles.”

      The guard looked at his credentials again, and nodded. “He’s in the main communications room, giving a briefing. If you want to catch him, that’s the best place to look. Down the left hallway. You can’t miss it.”

      “Busy here today,” Bolan observed.

      The phone beeped insistently, and the guard shrugged. “You don’t know the half of it.”

      “I wouldn’t bet on that,” Bolan replied, heading down the hall. The guard had been right about one thing—it would be impossible to miss the communications room since the hall led directly to it. The room was set up a bit like an auditorium, though there was no stage, but instead a bank of screens lit up one entire wall. Denny Seles was standing at a portable podium, and behind him on the screens, various potential target locations were being displayed as he discussed where law-enforcement personnel were going to be stationed. In front of him, tiered rows of computer stations looked down, and in addition to the people seated at them, the room was filled almost to overflowing with people standing around. At the top of the room was a set of offices, the largest belonging to the Director of the EOC.

      Seles finished up his briefing and answered a few questions, then dismissed everyone. He stayed down front, talking to a small group of people, including a woman Bolan assumed was Allison Hart, the EOC Director, according to the file Brognola had sent him. She was strikingly beautiful and obviously of mixed Asian descent. Her expression at the moment was serious, but Bolan could see the smile lines around her mouth and eyes.

      When it looked as if the group was ready to break up, he worked his way down the auditorium to where Seles and Hart were still talking. Seles must have spotted him because he stopped talking and signaled for him to come over. Bolan did so, offering a hand when he got closer.

      “Special Agent in Charge Denny Seles,” Bolan said. “We meet again.”

      “Special Agent Matt Cooper,” the agent said. “I thought you were undercover over in the 8 Mile region.” He paused, then introduced Bolan to the woman. “Allison Hart, Special Agent Cooper is with the DEA. He came by as a courtesy when he arrived in town a few weeks ago.”

      “It’s nice to meet you,” she said. They shook hands.

      “What can I do for you, Matt?” Seles asked without preamble. “As you can see, we’re kind of busy today.”

      “So I hear,” Bolan replied. “I was briefed a short time ago. I thought I should drop in and offer my help.”

      Denny’s lips pursed as he considered this information. “You’re an undercover DEA agent and you were briefed?” he asked. “By whom?”

      “Someone higher up in the food chain,” Bolan said, shrugging. “They thought your mission was more important than mine, so here I am.”

      “Look, Matt, if we’ve got a leak here...” he began.

      Bolan held up his hands. “No, there’s no leak.”

      “Then I’ve got to know where you’re getting your information from,” Seles said, his voice regretfully firm. “I can’t do this if every federal law-enforcement agency in the country is going to come in here without telling me.”

      Bolan thought about it, and then said, “Look, Denny, I’m something of a specialist. I came here on an operation for the DEA, but my orders today are coming from the White House. Call and get confirmation from the West Wing.”

      Hart laughed lightly. “You were ordered here by the White House?” she asked. “Give me a break.”

      Bolan stared at her, capturing her eyes with his own blue gaze. “Make the call, Miss Hart,” he said. “We’re wasting time arguing about where my orders came from instead of being out there catching the terrorists.”

      She nodded once. “I will,” she said, then turned and headed for her office.

      “You’re on the level, aren’t you?” Seles asked.

      “Yeah,” Bolan said. “So where do you want me?”

      “Allison is going to head up the EOC, and I’ll be in charge of field operations. The best thing you could do for me is pound the streets. Use the informants you’ve got to see if you can dig up something, anything. And maybe take another look at the boat. I might have missed something.”

      Bolan nodded. “I can do that. I’ll stop by there first. What have you got so far?”

      Seles sighed heavily. “As of right now, not a damn thing.”

      “No threats, no intelligence chatter, nothing?” he asked.

      “Not even a hint,” he replied. “I’m posting people at high-value targets, and my field team is ready to move on a moment’s notice, but until we get some hard intel, we’re just staging.”

      “What’s your gut tell you?”

      “That we’re in deep shit,” Seles said. “We just don’t know how deep yet.”

      “Waist-high and rising fast,” Bolan said. He gave the special agent a business card СКАЧАТЬ