Patriot Acts. Don Pendleton

Чтение книги онлайн.

      HENRY COSTELL PICKED UP Cameron Richards in a nondescript, rusted old van. Richards didn’t have to ask if his pilot and wheelman made certain that the vehicle was clean of any tracers or identifying features.

      “Los Angeles was a screw job, Hank,” Richards explained. “I think I was set up for a fall.”

      “It means they’ll want to retire me and the others, too,” Costell said. His close-cropped blond hair was a fuzz on top of his round, big-eared head.

      “I can’t believe that after all we’ve given them…” Richards said. He took a deep breath, putting the frustration away for later. “I’ve saved this country from countless threats.”

      “You’ve saved the whole world,” Costell explained. “It doesn’t matter. The weaklings in government aren’t strong enough to do what has to be done against the hordes hemorrhaging through our southern border, or the maniacs in the Middle East.”

      “Don’t even get me started on some of the shit we’ve seen in China,” Richards whispered. “Hell, we’ve seen so many things that could destroy the world that we wouldn’t have to look far.” He paused for a moment.

      “Why not?” Richards asked.

      “Why not what?” Costell asked. “Destroy everything we’ve worked for?”

      “We know enough to destroy the puppet masters,” Richards said. “The ones who’ve been pulling our strings, the ones who’ve been pulling the strings of our enemies. We could take out the whole set of them, maybe give this world another chance.”

      Costell pulled into a parking lot and turned off the engine. “They’ll kill us, no matter what we do,” he admitted.

      “This way, we not only give ourselves a measure of vengeance, but we create a new world. A world where people can live like they were meant to, by their own wits and courage,” Richards said.

      “There’d be battles across the country, not to mention international conflicts. And all we have is Weist and his men on our side,” Costell countered.

      “Not just him. We’ve got tabs on dozens of groups who would jump at the chance to play with the toys we’re going to pull out of the chest,” Richards stated. “We could build an army.”

      Costell stared, unfocused, out of the windshield. He didn’t see the storefronts before him, but instead he saw a world that could be forged in the fires of a single act of apocalyptic revenge. He glanced back to Richards. “What would we use?”

      “We’ve got everything from the Rage Pulse to Blue Fire,” Richards answered.

      “That stuff is under lock and key. The Initiative wouldn’t let us touch it when we still were their trusted soldiers,” Costell said.

      “So what?” Richards asked. “We know where we can get it. They might have had contingencies for us, but we’ve got our own ideas.”

      “You’re not really paranoid if they are out to get you,” Costell agreed. “So we bust in, and pop off some doomsday weaponry.”

      “And if we’re lucky, we can survive,” Richards said. “But if not, we at least hit the real bastards.”

      “We’ll need transportation,” Costell noted.

      “First we call up Weist and his boys,” Richards said. “I’ve got some ideas for a ride that will get us exactly where we want to be.”

      4

      Arnold Dozier didn’t speak as Bolan entered the interrogation room. The Executioner simply stood there staring at the man he’d captured in the crime lab raid.

      “So, what’s your plan?” Dozier asked. “How’re you going to break me?”

      Bolan leaned over the table and opened the handcuffs connecting Dozier to the mooring pipe on the table. Dozier looked at the loosened fetters, then rubbed his wrist. He’d received some bruising from the LAPD cops who’d walked him in there, but nothing that couldn’t be put down to Dozier’s own clumsiness.

      “I’ve got nothing on you,” Bolan said. “You’re a free man.”

      “Really?” Dozier asked.

      “Apparently you don’t exist,” Bolan replied. He tossed the fingerprint chart on the table. “Arnold Dozier died ten years ago. And frankly, I don’t have any known jurisdiction over the reanimated dead.”

      Dozier sneered. “You’re kidding, right?”

      “Nope,” Bolan said. “Blow.”

      Dozier looked at the fingerprint chart in front of him.

      His prints had been run and had come back as those of a dead man. He suddenly realized that Bolan and the LAPD had a list of paperwork on him. Photos, prints, and even if it all led to a dead end, the Rose Initiative wasn’t going to take a breach of operational security lightly.

      The big man turned and opened the door. Dozier looked past him and saw a row of grim-faced lawmen, some tightening grips on batons, others flexing their fingers through gleaming brass knuckles.

      “So what’s that?” Dozier asked.

      “You’re dead. You shouldn’t worry about that,” Bolan said. “Now blow.”

      Dozier knew the cops were waiting for their chance to give him some payback for the attack on their crime lab. “Why didn’t you ask anything?” he said.

      “Frankly, I don’t have the time,” Bolan answered. “You’re obviously inured to interrogation techniques. Torture, drugs, sensory deprivation.”

      “But everyone breaks eventually,” Dozier said.

      “And while I’m doing that, the rest of your organization continues its operation, killing innocent American citizens,” Bolan countered. “I’d spend the time to break you at the cost of what, thirty? A hundred? A thousand lives? Nah. I’ll just let you go as a goat. When your friends pop up to eliminate you, I pounce on them. I work up the food chain. A worm to catch a small fish. A small fish to catch a big fish. A big fish to catch the shark.”

      Dozier shook his head. “They’ll know I didn’t talk.”

      “Like you just said—everyone breaks. Especially after the beating you’ll take from my friends,” the Executioner said.

      Dozier frowned. He reached СКАЧАТЬ