Silent Threat. Don Pendleton

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СКАЧАТЬ the question. I spent several hours on the phone through channels, pulling strings and busting heads. They don’t like it, but they’ve reluctantly agreed to allow what is officially being considered an Interpol investigation.”

      “Interpol?” Bolan asked.

      “It gets us in the door,” Brognola said. “It doesn’t matter who they think we are, as long as you can get in and get it done. Basically, the Man wants you to go in and fix this problem. If you can get proof and we can secure further international cooperation, or direct cooperation with the Germans, that’s fine. If you can’t, you can still do what you do, burn them out and down, and put an end to this threat. Those are the President’s instructions.”

      “Why not simply go to the source, then? We eliminate the Consortium and its heads. Problem solved, except for some mop-up of the cult.”

      “Won’t work,” Brognola said. “The Consortium closely guards its membership rolls. We don’t know who they are, though we suspect in many cases. There are maybe three or four executives we could put you on, but that won’t begin to solve the problem. You need to find out who you’re dealing with, on the ground, by following the slime trails back to their source.”

      “I’m a soldier, not a detective, Hal.”

      “I’m not asking you to detect,” Brognola said. “I’m asking you to perform reconnaissance, then search and destroy.”

      “Understood.”

      “Let the Germans and Interpol think you’re who we tell them, unless and until you identify your targets. Then work around to the enemy, regardless.”

      “Just how hostile will the locals be to my presence?”

      “Officially, we’re letting them believe you’re one of the blacker sheep within the CIA,” Brognola said. “You’ll get nominal support and lip service, but don’t expect open arms.”

      “Business as usual, then,” Bolan said.

      “Yes,” the big Fed went on. “It doesn’t end there. In order to get local cooperation we’ve agreed to let Interpol assign us a contact. The Man himself secured their consent to work with us on this. They’ve been made aware of the broad strokes, or at least a sanitized version of them, though they have no idea who is behind this in truth.”

      “Of course,” Bolan said.

      “Stand by,” Brognola told him. “I’m transmitting you the contact’s dossier now. He’s relatively green, but nevertheless attached to one of the more shadowy branches of the Agency and its German equivalent. Born to German and American parents, educated here in the States. Did a few years abroad and in the Army, all of it post–iron curtain.”

      “Can we trust him?”

      “As far as we can trust anybody,” Brognola said. “Interpol thinks it’s taking the lead on this issue now, and we’re happy to let it. It allows us to operate under its umbrella, since we don’t officially exist. Your contact may even produce some worthwhile leads, or relay what Interpol manages to produce between now and when you hit ground in Germany.”

      “All right, then,” Bolan had agreed. “I guess I’d better get going.”

      “I guess you better,” Brognola had replied. “Good hunting, Striker.”

      “Right.” Bolan had closed the connection.

      Now, hours later, Bolan and Rieck sat facing each other over the dossier Interpol had managed to put together, and which Rieck had turned over. Bolan nodded, finally, jerking his chin toward the photographs and looking at Rieck. To his credit, the man understood without being told that Bolan wanted a synopsis.

      “That,” Rieck said, indicating a photograph, “is Hans Becker, the president of Becker Aerospace. BA produces key missile guidance systems. It’s considered a prime ‘get’ in strategic industrial circles, and in the last several months it’s been having financial problems. An accidental warehouse fire here, a few key developers lost to a car accident there. Word is it’s ripe for buyout, but Becker, who owns the controlling interest, is resisting. It’s a family-owned company and always has been.”

      “A prime target, in other words,” Bolan nodded. Watching the doorway from his seat, he saw a trio of young people, possibly students, wearing disposable plastic ponchos. Two of them had backpacks slung over one shoulder.

      “Yes,” Rieck said. “Our analysts predict that BA is the most probable object of the Consortium’s interests. It’s financially vulnerable, it produces a strategically critical line of components, and Becker has reported some harassment to the local authorities.”

      “Harassment?”

      “Being followed, some late-night hang-up calls, and a few incidents of vandalism at his home here in Berlin,” Rieck said, pulling a hard copy of a digital photograph from the stack. The building it depicted appeared to be an apartment or condominium high-rise, its architecture a blend of old-world charm and modern efficiency. It looked pricey, if Bolan was any judge. It was, in other words, just the sort of place a president or CEO would call home in this German city.

      “And BA itself?” Bolan asked. The students he had noticed before, a young man and two women, were settling at a table by the corner. One woman was blond, the other brunette. The blonde in particular was a striking Norse beauty. Bolan had seen plenty of beautiful women in his unending war against terror. He’d seen more than a few who had been pretty before the predators got done with them, too. It was a sobering thought.

      “Offices here, on Reinickendorfer Strasse,” Rieck said, “and a secondary manufacturing facility maybe an hour from the city, in Muencheberg.”

      “Were does Becker spend his time?”

      “The accidental deaths of some of his contemporaries in the high-tech field here in Germany haven’t gone unnoticed to Becker,” Rieck said, as if he and Bolan were sharing a very important secret. “He’s been holed up in his suite for the last week, and we know he has employed a bodyguard agency here in the city. They’re expensive, thoroughly licensed and heavily armed.”

      “Your recommendation?” Bolan asked, ignoring Rieck’s conspiratorial tone.

      “I would start with Muencheberg,” Rieck said. “If Becker’s holdings are being monitored, we might be able to find some of the operatives responsible. We might even catch them in the act of vandalizing Becker’s property. These incidents have increased sharply in the past several days. There have been three reports in the last week alone.”

      “It’s a start,” Bolan said. “But if Becker is the target, it’s Becker we should begin with. He’s the key. Removing him removes the primary obstacle to the Consortium’s acquisition of his company. If they orchestrated the problems that have put BA in deep, which it’s likely they have, it makes even more sense that they’re setting him up for a heavy fall.”

      “But he’s guarded,” Rieck said. “Won’t that keep him out of play for now?”

      “I’ve never known it to mean much in the past,” Bolan said. “Hired guards are hired guards. They’re good as far as they go. But his apartment is no fortress. How could it be? I’ve seen hard targets, Rieck. This won’t qualify.”

      “Well, СКАЧАТЬ