Читать книгу Zero Option - Don Pendleton - Страница 10

Stony Man Farm, Virginia

Bolan was on his third coffee when Hal Brognola arrived. He took one look at the soldier and reached for the pot himself, pouring himself a mug before dropping into the chair behind his desk. Brognola looked like a man who hadn’t slept for a long time. He took a long swallow of coffee, leaned back in his seat and stared at his old friend while he formed the words he wanted to speak.

“What the hell is going on, Striker?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. I’d planned to spend some R&R with Jack on Nassau. I touched down and found out it had gone to hell—Jack in hospital, Jess Buchanan kidnapped. I picked up some information on the perps and headed back for the mainland only to get hijacked at the airport and ended up having to fight my way out of a bad situation. That’s it. I dropped off the security tape I located at Jess Buchanan’s airstrip. Aaron is running it through the computer now to see if we can get some names for the faces. End of story. Now it’s your turn.”

“You up for another ride?” Brognola asked.

“Sure. Why not? I’m not even going to ask where.”

“One of your admirable qualities, Striker. Flexibility.” Bolan scowled at his longtime friend and ally. “Don’t push it.”

Brognola allowed himself a brief smile. He drained his coffee mug and stood.

“We’ll check with Aaron before we head out.”

AARON KURTZMAN was alone in the Computer Room. He spun his wheelchair away from his workstation as Brognola stepped into the room, with Bolan shadowing him. One look at the Executioner’s expression and Kurtzman knew it was no time for levity. He had been updated on what had happened from the moment Bolan had arrived in Nassau.

“I ran your security tape through the military database. You and Jack were right with the military connection. I came up with two positives. Your blond guy is one Calvin Ryan. Ex-Army. Retired a couple of years back from his last unit. Worked his way up through the ranks. Quite a record. The guy is a professional, a hard hitter. Desert Storm. Grenada. Headed a team of infiltrators for his commanding officer. You’ll like this. Colonel Orin Stengard.”

“Steel and Thunder Stengard?” Brognola said.

“The one and only. Makes all the other hard-liners look like pacifists.”

“The guy is always in the news with his views on why America needs to pull up the drawbridge and turn the country into an armed camp. Given his way, he’d have kids in school being taught weapons drill and issued with M-16s.”

“Any suggestions on what Ryan has done since he left the military?” Bolan asked.

Kurtzman shook his head. “Nothing on file.”

“You said two IDs.”

“Only got a clear image on one other man. Paul Meeker.”

“One of Ryan’s former military unit?”

“How did you know that?”

Bolan shrugged. “Just a guess.”

“Every time you start guessing, I get a cold finger down my spine,” Brognola said. “You have any other insights?”

“One observation,” Bolan said. “Orin Stengard has been known to associate himself alongside Senator Eric Stahl. Another might-is-right believer, and a man who has more than a passing connection with the armaments industry.”

“Connection is a nice way of putting it,” Brognola said. “The Stahl family has been in armaments since the 1930s. It’s where he gets his money. The man is worth billions.”

“Is this the Eric Stahl who fronts the Third Party?” Kurtzman asked.

“Stahl is the Third Party. The guy wants to be President. He was elected on his manifesto in his home state because he has one hell of a following in the Fortress America camp. We might not like his views, but a lot of people do. Stahl makes no concessions to political correctness, or tiptoeing around the issues. He says it as he sees it. The country is losing face and the ability to defend itself because we fudge the issues and let our enemies tell us how we should act. According to Stahl, we should think of the U.S. first and if it upsets the rest of the world, so what?” Brognola glanced across at Bolan. “Time we left.”

“You guys on a date?” Kurtzman asked.

“Not the kind you’re thinking about,” Brognola said.

“See what you can come up with on the wallet and the car-rental details,” Bolan said as he followed Brognola out the door. “Check those Glock pistols, as well. I’ll catch you later.”

“You know where to find me,” Kurtzman said to the Executioner’s back. He swung his wheelchair back to his desk and bent over his keyboard.

He had been working on the car-rental information Bolan had brought in. The credit-card detail ran him into a firewall on his first attempt. It went so far, then threw up a block. That was its first mistake. Kurtzman didn’t like being denied access to information. So he had pulled back and brought up one of his own programs, using it to bypass the card company’s firewall. He had just requested his program to worm its way into the card company’s database when Bolan and Brognola had visited. Now they had gone, Kurtzman turned back to his computer’s search and checked on the results. A smile creased his face as he read what the search had produced. He was into the card company’s database. His program had overcome the firewall put up by the security system. All Kurtzman had to do now was trace the ownership of the card, and it would point the finger at whoever was financing the people who had attacked Jack Grimaldi and Jess Buchanan.

THE BLACKSUIT PILOT behind the controls of the helicopter nodded as Bolan and Brognola settled in their seats behind him.

“Any update on Jack, sir?” he asked.

“Nothing new. He’s going to be out of action for a few weeks, but he’ll be okay.”

“Glad to hear it. Hope everything works out okay. He was really looking forward to his break on Nassau. All he talked about the last few days before he left.”

“He’d be pleased to know people are thinking about him,” Bolan told him.

“Yeah, they sure are, sir. Hell of a guy.”

Bolan sat back as the chopper rose into the air and gained altitude.

“Hell of a guy” didn’t even scratch the surface when it came to describing Jack Grimaldi.

RAIN PELTED the helicopter as it touched down on the well-tended lawn behind the White House. The pilot shut off the power and the rotors began to slow, making a soft pulse of sound as they cut the air.

A pair of dark-suited Secret Service agents came out to meet Bolan and Brognola as they ran across the grass to the entrance that would admit them to the President’s residence.

“The President is expecting you,” one of the agents said. He was staring at the slight, telltale bulge under Bolan’s jacket.

“You need to take it?” Bolan asked, preempting the agent’s thoughts. He opened his jacket to expose the holstered Beretta 93-R.

A muscle in the agent’s jaw twitched slightly. He cleared his throat.

“The President has sanctioned your right to keep your weapon, sir.”

“I appreciate that.”

The agent held Bolan’s gaze for a heartbeat.

“If you’d feel more comfortable, I’ll hand it over,” Bolan said evenly.

“That won’t be necessary, sir. Thanks for your cooperation.” The agent turned his gaze on Brognola. “Same concession goes for you, as well, Mr. Brognola. Would you both come this way.”

The agents led the men to a thickly carpeted hallway that deadened the sound of their passing. They paused at the door to the Oval Office. One of the agents tapped on the door, which was opened by one of the White House staff members who spoke briefly to the agent before withdrawing. He reappeared moments later, beckoning to Bolan and Brognola.

“The President is ready to see you.”

Bolan let the big Fed step inside first, then followed close behind. The staff member retreated, closing the door behind him, leaving the men alone with the President of the United States.

The Man came from behind his desk, holding out a hand to greet Brognola. The President’s jacket was draped over the back of his chair behind the desk and his sleeves were rolled partway up his arms.

“Hal,” he said.

“Sir.”

The President turned his attention to the Executioner. It was a rare happening for the President to actually meet the man he was in the habit of sending out to do dangerous work on behalf of the nation. Before he even had words with Bolan, the President realized this was someone he could trust. The soldier had a presence, a quiet confidence that reached out and confirmed his devotion to country and duty. It was a rare thing, especially in the current climate of mistrust and deceit, and despite being hailed as the most powerful man in the world, the President found he felt safe being in the same room as Mack Bolan.

“Glad you could make it, Striker,” the President said, holding out his hand.

Bolan took it, feeling the firm grip of the President.

“Did Hal fill you in with the details?”

“No, sir,” Brognola interrupted. “I wanted this to come directly to him when the three of us were together.”

“There’s fresh coffee over there. Help yourselves before we start.” The President crossed to the tray resting on a small table and poured himself a mug. “Anyone?”

“Black for me,” Bolan said.

“Nothing for me just now,” Brognola said.

Bolan took the mug the President handed him. He waited until the Man had taken his place behind his desk, then settled himself in one of the comfortable chairs facing the desk. Brognola sat on his left.

“Cards on the table, gentlemen,” the President said evenly. “We have a problem brewing and you, Striker, however you want to call it, seem to have become involved.” The President allowed himself a quick smile. “Not the first time that has happened, either.”

“No, sir.”

“Hal has given me the details of your involvement from the start, up to the present, so we don’t need to go through that again. I also understand that your people at Stony Man are working on material Striker brought back with him, Hal?”

“Yes, sir, and we do have some feedback already,” Brognola said. “It’s a little early to give us definite connections, though.”

“Cards on the table?” Bolan interrupted, leaning forward in his seat. He caught Brognola’s warning glance but chose to ignore it. “I’m picking up a feeling of urgency, so I’m going to play my hand.

“From evidence I picked up in Nassau and the people who were waiting for me at the airport, we came up with two names. The man in charge of the team who took Jess Buchanan and attacked Jack Grimaldi is an ex-military man named Calvin Ryan. The other man is Paul Meeker. Meeker was part of Ryan’s special-ops team. Their commanding officer in the army was Colonel Orin Stengard, and Stengard is a known associate of—”

“Senator Eric Stahl,” the President said. He glanced at Brognola. “Hal? What do you make of this?”

“Right now they’re just names and tenuous connections, Mr. President.”

“But in the context of what I’m about to explain to Striker, don’t you feel those connections are too strong to ignore?”

“As we’re off the record and this goes no further, my personal feelings are that Stengard and Stahl are involved right up their necks, Mr. President. On past records concerning their political and personal views, I have to admit to being downright biased against them.”

The President nodded. “That wasn’t too hard to say, was it, Hal?”

Brognola glanced across at Bolan. “Happy now?”

“Getting there.”

The President placed his coffee mug on the desk. He looked directly at Bolan.

“One thing Senator Stahl and I agree on is the defense of the United States. Where we part company is on the application of any defense system. Eric Stahl is a ‘shoot first, consider the implications after,’ kind of a man. I have no problem with having the best defense system available so that we can, as a nation, be in the position of having full protection in times of crisis. I do not see a defense system as a means of threatening and bullying other nations. That isn’t going to get us anywhere.

“However, we live in parlous times. We moved into a new era in the wake of September 11. No doubt about that. The world has changed. We need to change with it. Peace, however defined, has to be worked at. It’s going to take a hell of a lot of talking, and in the meantime there are still going to be those states and groups, terrorists if you will, who refuse to take the quiet option. So, gentlemen, we need to be able to protect ourselves from the rogue states until such times come that allow us to step back from the firing line. We owe that to the people of the United States.

“Three years ago a project was conceived and initiated by the U.S. The project is called the Zero Option. In simple terms Zero is a self-sustaining, orbiting weapons platform. Its purpose is to act as a defensive deterrent. Because of its capability no potential enemy of the United States would be able to launch anything against us. Once Zero detects a launch, it responds by targeting it with its own built-in missile system. The incoming missile would be destroyed while it was still in flight. Zero is equipped with detection and tracking capabilities of the highest specification. The system has been tried and tested. The tracking system is locked into the Slingshot satellite ring we put up earlier.”

“We had a run-in with the Chinese and the North Koreans over that,” Brognola said.

“Some run-in,” Bolan commented. “From the way you’re talking about Zero, Mr. President, I’m guessing this orbiting platform is up and running.”

“Construction and final interior equipping was completed six months ago. There was a great deal to do. You have to appreciate the sophistication of the interior systems. Once all that had been given the all-clear Zero came partially online. A secondary function of Zero is information gathering and transmitting to our Earth command station. Coupled with Slingshot, Zero can pinpoint any known location, listen and see what’s going on. That part of the Zero platform is already operating. We have, in essence, the best observation station in existence.”

“That isn’t the whole story, sir?”

The President glanced in Bolan’s direction. “No. Zero’s primary function is still on hold. And it will be until the final piece of the puzzle is in place. That brings me to why you’re here. But first I have to explain the way Zero will be controlled. A somewhat unique way.”

“To do with Doug Buchanan?”

“Doug Buchanan will be Zero’s guiding hand and decision maker. The platform can perform its mechanical functions, yes, but every one of those operations requires a command decision initiated by human intelligence. An intelligence that can assess the parameters and reach a decision based on experience and the capacity to make judgments with considerations for the consequences. Something a machine doesn’t always regard as necessary.”

“So Buchanan will be in command of the platform?”

The President looked across at Brognola.

“This is where your knowledge of Zero stopped before, Hal. Now seems to be the time to bring you up to speed, as well as Striker.”

If Bolan was surprised that Brognola already had insight into Zero, he didn’t show it.

“Doug Buchanan will become part of Zero, yes, but I mean a part in the sense that a process will assimilate him, via what is termed a biocouch. His physical body will fuse to the couch, the connections being made by neural implants designed to merge living matter with the implants already within the couch. In the simplest terms Buchanan will become Zero will become Buchanan. Don’t ask me to go into too much detail because Saul Kaplan lost me after the first couple of pages.”

Bolan considered what the President had told him. He was as aware of bio-and cybernetic engineering as most. He was not aware it had developed this far.

“Research into this field has been going on behind the scenes for years,” the President said. “Saul Kaplan has been one of the most energetic participants in the advancement of this science. When he put his concept forward at the start of the Zero project we realized just how far he had gone. This man-machine bonding hadn’t been part of the Zero equation until Kaplan showed interest. The man is brilliant, creative, and he had everything mapped out when he made his presentation to the oversight group.”

“How did Buchanan become part of this project?” Brognola asked.

“You mean why would a man offer to put himself through such a trauma?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Doug Buchanan is a serving officer in the U.S. Air Force. Impeccable record. He is also a man who loves his country and has dedicated himself to serving it any way he can. Not unlike the people in this room right now. We each do what we can in individual ways. In Doug Buchanan’s case he had reached a point in his life where he needed to make a critical decision. He has an incurable cancer. It will kill him, and there isn’t a damned thing anyone can do to stop it. That was true until Buchanan and Kaplan came together. Saul Kaplan offered Buchanan a way out. I have to admit it turned out to be the most dramatic way, but once Kaplan had explained it, Buchanan volunteered to join the Zero Option project.”

“The merging of Buchanan to Zero means the biocouch will replace many of Buchanan’s bodily functions. Zero will both nourish and monitor his life patterns. It will, as I understand it, kill off the cancer cells and sustain his life for as long as he remains integrated. His life expectancy will be extended, and the pain he would have experienced from his cancer will be eliminated. There will be, of course, substantial changes in his level of physical ability.”

“He won’t be able to leave this biocouch?” Bolan said.

“Exactly. But as Buchanan himself said, by the advanced stages of his cancer he would be confined to a hospital bed anyway. At least with Zero he would still be able to contribute something.”

The President paused. He sensed that both Bolan and Brognola were trying to come to terms with what he had just told them. He allowed them their time by getting up to refill his coffee mug.

“Doug Buchanan is an intelligent, forward-thinking man. He took a long time considering the options open to him. There was no pressure put on him. No one had any right to push him into something like this. I made that a stipulation when Kaplan first came to me with the concept. Buchanan’s decision was related to his life as it would be if he decided not to join Zero. In the end he came to me and we discussed it at length. He saw the challenge in the project. Looked on it as a step forward in his own life and something important for the defense of the country.”

“So what happened?”

“The project was established at a facility in the New Mexico desert. This had been closed down some years previously, and when Zero came along it was decided this facility would be an ideal place—isolated, with all the things Kaplan would need. The facility was reopened and equipped under Kaplan’s supervision. The Zero team was composed of only a small number of technicians, plus Air Force personnel and security. They worked day and night to have everything ready for when the Zero platform reached completion. They were almost there when a nighttime strike by enemies unknown destroyed the facility, the equipment and the personnel. By the time a rescue team arrived, the facility was totally destroyed. Everything. There were no survivors. The intensity of the explosions and the thermal devices used had reduced the place to ashes. Even the bodies were consumed to the point where it was impossible to make a count.

“I have to mention something at this point,” the President added. “Saul Kaplan had removed himself from the project some time back. He lost faith in the whole thing, I believe now due to some conflict he had with the Air Force command. I didn’t learn about this until too late. He simply walked one day. Apparently he refused to do what they wanted. I had some heated discussions with the people involved and made it clear I wasn’t pleased with their behavior and attitude. But the damage was done, and we were too far along to abandon the project. I’m telling you this because I did speak to Kaplan some time later. He had taken a post as a lecturer in a Midwest university. Even though I apologized for the attitude of the Air Force, I was unable to persuade him to return.” The President smiled. “In the end Kaplan hung up on me. I took that as his final no.”

“Is this a way of saying Kaplan might be involved in the strike against the facility, sir?” Brognola asked.

The President shook his head. “This wasn’t revenge by a disgruntled ex-worker. Saul Kaplan is too much of a decent man to even consider something like this. Don’t forget that his protégé, Doug Buchanan, was at the facility. Kaplan wouldn’t do anything to hurt that man.”

“Are there any theories on the strike force?”

“Nothing yet. We believe it may be the work of some foreign organization that may have found out about the Zero project and was simply making an attempt to prevent it becoming a reality. There are nations who would feel unjustly threatened even by the thought of something like Zero watching over them. Think about it, gentlemen.”