Silent Threat. Don Pendleton
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Название: Silent Threat
Автор: Don Pendleton
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Морские приключения
Серия: Gold Eagle Executioner
isbn: 9781472085276
isbn:
“Akira here,” Akira Tokaido said. The young computer hacker was all-business now. He was particularly good with intricate electronic devices, which was likely why Kurtzman had tasked him with this problem. “It is a fairly conventional device,” Akira reported. “Our recognition programs have identified all of the visible components as COTS,” he continued, “commercial and off-the-shelf. That block of plastic explosive, is it C-4?”
“Semtex, by the odor,” Bolan corrected.
“Ah, the color of the photo is a little washed out. No matter. You are ready?”
“Hurry,” Bolan said.
“The two cards connected to the small transmitter on the right-hand side,” Tokaido stated. “Those are from a cell phone. They can be removed without detonating the device. Simply pull them out and yank the wires free.”
Bolan gritted his teeth, reached out and pulled the components free. Becker shut his eyes tightly. No explosion came.
“Still here,” Bolan said softly.
“Now, the timer circuit,” Tokaido said. “This is more complicated. There should be a third wire, not visible to me, somewhere near the two that are visible at the base of the rotary timer. You will have to find that third wire and cut it. Cut only the third wire.”
Bolan set the phone on the floor and used the tip of his knife as a probe, careful not to slice into the insulation covering the two wires that had been visible in the photograph. He eased these aside, prying them gently, careful not to separate them. Beneath these black wires he found a third, blue wire, well hidden and also connected to the timing mechanism.
“I have a blue wire,” he said, picking up the phone.
“The color is not important,” Tokaido said. “The third wire is the detonation one. Cutting it alone deactivates the timer. Sever either of the other two wires and the circuit closes, detonating the bomb.”
“Copy that,” Bolan said. Once more setting down the phone, he put his fingers to his lips and then placed his hand on Becker’s shoulder. He pointed at the bomb and then gestured with the dagger. The meaning was clear enough. Becker closed his eyes again and did his best to stay very still.
The timing cylinder began to spin more quickly.
“Great,” Bolan muttered.
Rieck, looking over his shoulder, gasped. Like Bolan, he could understand what that meant: the timer had run down and the mechanism was going to trigger the explosive.
Bolan cut the wire. All three men held their breath.
There was a loud metallic ping as the mechanical trigger closed.
“Well,” Bolan said. “That’s that.” He cut the straps holding the bomb to Becker’s chest, removed the device and set it next to the chair.
Becker breathed hard, muttering “thank you” in German over and over again.
“Now what?” Rieck asked. He stepped to the nearest window and glanced out, checking the street beyond.
“Now we keep moving,” Bolan said. “Obviously, Iron Thunder has been and gone. We need to follow the next lead in the chain. That means—”
“Cooper,” Rieck interrupted. “Trouble.”
“How many?” Bolan asked, checking his Beretta.
“Two more cars full of our well-armed, well-dressed friends.”
“This is starting to get repetitive,” Bolan said, nodding to Becker. “Explain to him what’s going on.” He looked around, noted the incongruously large bathroom off this room, which was apparently Becker’s study. “Tell him to get into the bathtub and keep his head down. Tell him to stay down until the shooting stops. Stay here and shoot anyone who comes through that door that isn’t me.”
“And you?”
“I’m taking the fight to them.” He secured the Beretta 93-R with a full 20-round magazine, then drew the Desert Eagle and checked it. A .44 Magnum round waited in the chamber and the magazine was topped off.
“I don’t blame you,” Rieck said.
“What?”
“Well, after all that trouble we took to save him,” Rieck said with a grin, “I’ll be damned if it’s fair to have the second string take him out.”
Bolan offered him a vertical salute with the barrel of the Desert Eagle. He let the weapon lead him as he walked out into the scorched corridor beyond.
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