Читать книгу The Killing Rule - Don Pendleton - Страница 9

They sat in leather chairs in front of a roaring fireplace that was large enough to double as a car port for a Volkswagen. Spot and Starkers lay curled before it on a polar bear rug. Lord William had put away his Sterling, but when he unbuttoned his coat a Browning Hi-Power pistol in a shoulder holster was revealed. He and McCarter sipped ten-year-old Laphroaig single-malt whiskey from the Isle of Islay. Bolan drank a pint of the locally brewed ale. Lunk and two of the yeomen hung back in the shadows of the cavernous hall drinking ale and keeping their weapons close to hand. They were all quiet for a few moments while Lord William observed the laws of hospitality and everyone warmed their bones.

“So, David. What’s this all about?”

“Well, Bill, there’s been some trouble in London.”

Lord William peered over the rim of his whiskey glass. “Oh?”

“Yes, the CIA had two agents end up in the Thames. The IRA is involved.”

“Well, what the bloody hell is the CIA doing mucking about with the IRA? Can’t MI-5 cut the mustard anymore?”

Bolan decided to play it straight. “The operation was run without the cooperation or the knowledge of MI-5 or Her Majesty’s government.”

“Well, it serves them bloody right, then, doesn’t it?” Lord William snorted with disgust born of long experience. “Central sodding Intelligence my flaming—”

“Lord William, it appears some of your employees are involved.”

“Really.”

Lord William turned to the gigantic Welshman. “Lunk, you taffy bastard! Have you been having it on with the IRA again?”

“Oh, no, m’lord.” The giant grinned malevolently from where he stood drinking by the sideboard. His voice was as deep as thunder in the distance. “I haven’t killed an Irish in, oh, ten years?”

“CIA?” Lord William said hopefully.

“No.” Lunk finished his pint. “Not that I’d mind so much, though.”

Lord William gestured with his whiskey glass at the four men bearing shotguns and drinking on the couch. “How about the rest of you lads, then? Been misbehaving in London when I wasn’t looking?”

The men grinned and shook their heads in unison.

Lord William turned back to Bolan with a helpless shrug. “That’s most of the men I have on staff.”

“Actually, I’m thinking more along the lines of Aegis Global Security employees.”

Lord William shifted uncomfortably. “Well, for one, except for some accountants, lawyers and office staff, Aegis has no permanent employees. We have stockholders, and then we have contractors—we call them associates—whom Aegis employs, contract by contract, job by job. And two, Aegis Global Security doesn’t take contract work from the IRA. Indeed, on numerous occasions we’ve taken jobs to protect people from the IRA. Successful jobs, mind you, and we weren’t in the business of arresting people or taking prisoners, if you get my meaning. Except for MI-5 we’re the IRA’s worst bloody nightmare.”

Bolan opened his folder and started handing over pictures. “Do you know this woman?”

Lord William stared at the Scottish redhead with appreciation. “No, but I’d like to.”

Bolan handed him the pictures of the former French Legionnaire and the smaller South African. Lord William shook his head in mounting irritation and suddenly stopped. He tapped his finger on the final picture of the big man.

“You know him?”

“I remember him vaguely.” Lord William nodded. “Ruud something. Yes, that’s it, Ruud Heitinga. South African lad. Reconnaissance Commando.” He frowned. “Bit too fond of interrogation for my taste. Always pulled his weight, though. Had a brother, Arjen, even bigger than he was, big enough to give Lunk a run for his money. Together, the two of them were something of a terror.”

“Lord William, I realize that Aegis doesn’t have a standing private army, and that people who have worked for you in the past are quite capable of going off and doing private, illegal contract work without your knowledge. But you must have a roster of people who have worked for you,” Bolan said.

“Well, of course, but I’m not sure how I can help you. You see, I haven’t had my hand directly in the business except for shareholder votes in oh, well, probably going on ten years.”

“But you are listed as the president of the company.”

Lord William flushed with embarrassment. “Well, it’s not something I’m particularly proud of, but about eleven years ago I grew a wild hair to sail solo around the world. It took me ninety days, a respectable time, but when I returned I’d found there’d been something of a hostile takeover at Aegis.” Lord William shrugged. “I’ve always been good at making fortunes and starting businesses, but the trick, you see, is keeping them. Never my strong suit. It was all very polite. All very firm.”

Lord William glanced up at the life-size replica of classical Greek hoplite shield hanging over the mantel. It was painted black, and a gold fist holding a lightning bolt was emblazoned in the center. It was the Aegis, the all-protective shield of Zeus in Greek mythology. “Of course they wanted to keep the logo hanging over the door and my face on the yearly prospectus. So they let me have the title of president, but it’s largely ceremonial, for publicity purposes.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Lord William shrugged philosophically. “Well, you know. Aegis turned a profit but it was never a huge moneymaker. I started it in the eighties almost on a lark to get work for some good men I knew, myself included. It’s Jennings who really made the company take off. It’s bigger than ever, and good men from dozens of services around the world who’ve been cashed out by wounds or are a bit past it physically are still making good money doing what they do best.” Lord William poured himself another two fingers of whiskey. “You Yanks and your War on Terror have been good for business.”

“Jennings.” Bolan knew the name from the files Kurtzman had given him. “The chairman of the board.”

“Indeed.” Lord William made a face as though he had just tasted something vaguely unpleasant. “Rich boy. Went to Eton. He spent a couple of years in the TerritorialArmyVolunteers. He made lieutenant but never served anywhere. Something of an ‘intense’ personality. Loved shooting guns, rolling around on the judo mat and hearing everyone else’s war stories. A real ‘weekend warrior,’ as you Yanks would say.”

McCarter had met the type before. “Sounds like a right proper Charlie.”

“A right proper head for business, though,” Lord William countered. “Bought stock when we went public. Then he bought more. Infused some needed cash when I was between fortunes and ended up with controlling interest in the company. A real murderer in the boardroom. Trust me, I have the scars to prove it.”

“Lord William, the situation is this,” Bolan said. “The CIA heard chatter that the IRA was somehow mixed up with weapons of mass destruction. MI-5 discounted them.”

“Bloody right they did. What’s the IRA going to do with a nuke or some ugly bloody bug? They’re smart enough to know if they ever did such a damn fool thing all it would get them is a second Norman invasion. England would turn the entire island into a medieval fife again. I’m sure a few of the buggers have dreamy dreams of Parliament going up in a mushroom cloud, but that’s all it is, a pipe dream.”

“I agree. However, two CIA agents were killed investigating that rumor, and when I looked into the matter and stirred things up with the IRA, Ruud Heitinga and the other three in the pictures I showed you showed up unannounced at my hotel room. During interrogation, the woman claimed she was under contract with Aegis Global Security.”

Lord William was appalled. “What’s a woman doing working for Aegis?”

“Computer hacker.”

The baron considered this strange turn of events. “Really.”

“These days, breaking into enemy computer bases is almost more necessary than infiltrating their firebases,” Bolan told him.

“Computer hacker. Well, that is forward thinking,” Lord William admitted. “Must be one of Jennings’s innovations.”

McCarter saw his opening. “Bill?”

“Yes, David?”

“Not that I’m complaining, but that was an unusual welcome this morning.”

“Well, there’s been some trouble about.”

“What kind of trouble, Bill?”

Lord William stared into the crackling fire. “Oh, you know. The usual thing. An attempt or two on my life. One was a sniper’s bullet through the terrace window. Took my nightcap clean off my head.” He shook his head ruefully. “Never found the bastard.”

“And the other?”

“Lunk found him by the compost pile. Starkers was busy burying the poor bastard.”

Bolan and McCarter stared at the mutant Great Dane.

Lord William shrugged. “Well, they always say leave the dogs outside during the day but bring them in to defend you at night. But after the sniper attack, I started leaving the dogs out after hours. Felt bad for Starkers. I had to buy him some canine Wellies to keep him warm. Poor hairless bastard. You know, I almost had him put down when he was born. Bloody runt of the litter. But my lady friend at the time thought he was cute, so I kept him. Well, then, anyway, apparently Starkers and this son of a bitch had a difference of opinion in the wee hours a fortnight ago. Needless to say, Starkers earned his kibble.” Lord William leaned down and scratched the immense animal between the ears. “Who’s a good lad? Who’s a good lad, then? It’s bloody you, Starkers, isn’t it!”

Starkers thumped his tail on the polar bear carcass in agreement.

“You know, all the bastard had was knife?” Lord William turned to Bolan. “One of your Yank Bowie knives. I swear it was a foot long. You could skin an elephant with the bloody thing. Guess he wanted to get up close and personal with me.” Lord William gave his dog another rub behind the ears. “Should have brought a bloody elephant gun for you, Starkers, shouldn’t he have?”

Starkers rolled onto his back and shuddered like a squid.

“So then I get a call from an old comrade whom I never really knew that well from the old days in SAS. You, David, and you’ll forgive me if I was a bit suspicious.”

Bolan finished his beer. A bottle cracked open behind Bolan and the giant Welshman stalked forward and refilled his glass. “No harm, no foul, your lordship. May I ask you a personal question?”

“Everyone does, and I find myself far more fond of you than the average Yank.”

“I assume you still have stock in Aegis?”

“Oh, a sizable chunk. Jennings wanted to buy me out outright, but that’s where I put my foot down. I still get my dividends quarterly and occasionally vote in the stockholder’s meetings.”

“Do you still have the legal right to look into the company’s doings?”

“Might be a bit touch and go.” Lord William leaned back and contemplated his whiskey. “Though I suppose I could call an emergency stockholders’ meeting and raise a stench. There aren’t that many of us, but then again, we’re scattered about the globe a bit. It would take time.”

“What if you pulled a surprise visit to corporate headquarters?” Bolan suggested.

“You mean, just show up in Amsterdam, unannounced?” A devilish grin suddenly passed across Lord William’s face. “Brass balls and all that.”

“Something like that.”

“Well, it’s the last thing they’d expect, but I doubt I can get more than one guest through the door.” Lord William raised an eyebrow at Bolan. “I assume you would like to come along?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

McCarter frowned. “You sure you don’t want some backup?”

Bolan had already given that some thought. “Actually, I’d like you to go back to London. My name is mud with MI-5 right about now, but last I heard you’re still a golden boy with British Intelligence. You’re our best shot at getting real cooperation.”

He took out Assistant Director Finch’s business card. “Look her up. Deal with her and only her. I still have the feeling there’s someone higher up trying to smother this whole situation.”

McCarter scanned the card and memorized it. “Right, then.” He tapped his copy of the mission file. “I don’t like it, though. The more I hear, the less I trust this Jennings git.”

“Oh, well!” Lord William grinned. “If you’ve a git problem, then Lunk’s your solution.” He turned to the massive Welshman. “Lunk! How’s about a little jaunt to Holland?”

Lunk considered this for several long moments. “The smoked eel is delicious.”

Amsterdam

LUNK WOLFED SMOKED EEL from a roll of newspaper. Bolan had learned on the flight from Guernsey that “Lunk” was short for Lynnock ap Nock, and the Cymric superman had been a Coxswain in the Royal Marines 539 Assault Squadron. The mission was rolling too fast for the Farm to arrange a full war load of weapons to await him in Amsterdam, but Bolan had gone to the American Embassy and the CIA station chief had acquired a Beretta 92 for him from the Marine Guard armory and a snub-nosed .38 from his own personal cache. Lord William was currently making a pit stop of his own, and Bolan and Lunk stood outside the Central Bank of the Netherlands. Lord William came out ten minutes later and tossed Lunk an old-fashioned canvas courier’s pouch. “Hold on to that, Lunk, would you?”

Lunk tucked the canvas package under his arm, and they took a water taxi to the River Ij. Huge sections of Amsterdam were considered historical landmarks, with entire neighborhoods dating back to the 1850s. It was along the River Ij that Amsterdam had some of its most modern city developments, and freed from the constraints of historical preservation, the developers had explored their artistic sides. The neighborhood was famed for its unusual and experimental architecture. They stepped onto shore, and Lord William paused by a stand of willows. “Lunk?”

Lunk reached into the canvas bag and passed Lord William a Hi-Power pistol, and the Englishman made it disappear into his jacket. The Welshman pulled out a stainless steel .357 Magnum Smith & Wesson Model 66 and grinned at Bolan. “Traded one of your Navy SEAL lads for it, back in the day.”

Lord William suddenly shot Bolan an embarrassed look. “Not to be insulting, old boy, but I gather you are armed?”

“I am, your lordship.”

“Good. Jolly good. They won’t do us much good, but at least we can lull them into a false sense of security. Oh, and for God’s sake, drop that ‘your lordship’ rubbish. Call me Bill. My friends do.”

“Bill.” Bolan nodded. “I gather we won’t get any weapons past security?”

“No, but we have Lunk in our back pockets, don’t we?”

Bolan let the cryptic remark pass as they stepped out of the little stand of trees and walked a block up the canal and came to a two-story building of glass brick and pink stucco right out of an episode of Miami Vice. Lunk kept on walking as Bolan and Lord William pushed through the smoked-glass double doors into a teak-paneled lobby. A beautiful Dutch woman with platinum-blond hair sat behind a desk.

Lord William whispered in appreciation. “Well, she’s new.”

A twin of the life-size Aegis shield and thunderbolt logo in Lord William’s Guernsey manor took up almost the entire wall behind her. Bolan noted the security cameras above it. The receptionist turned a blazing white smile and greeted them in Dutch. “Goede ochtend!”

“And good morning to you, too, my dear,” Lord William replied. “Is Mr. Jennings in today?”

The receptionist switched to thick English. “Yes, but he is very busy. Do you have an appointment?”

“Tell Mr. Jennings that Lord William Glen-Patrick and associate are here to pay him a call.”

“Lord William!” The woman’s jaw dropped charmingly. “I will inform Mr. Jennings immediately! You may wait—”

“What is your name, again?”

The woman flushed. “Grietje.”

“We’ll wait in the courtyard, Grietje, thank you.”

Bolan followed Lord William’s lead as he walked past the desk to the hallway beyond. A chime peeped as they crossed the threshold. Grietje shot the English lord a look that was both amused and accusing. “You should know policy, Lord William.”

“Sorry about that.” Lord William took out his Hi-Power. There were metal detectors in the door frame. “Old habits, you know. Feel naked without it.”

Grietje pushed a panel on the wall behind her that slid back to reveal a wall safe. She pressed in a combination code as Bolan took out his Beretta and the snub-nosed Smith. Grietje locked the weapons away. “Lord William, if you—”

“Would you be a dear and bring us some coffee?” Lord William continued on his way. Bolan followed. Grietje made a small noise of consternation. She had their weapons, but protocol was not being observed. However, William Glen-Patrick was a noted eccentric and the founder of the company.

“I will bring you coffee.”

Lord William grinned like a schoolboy getting away with something as they stepped out into a tiny courtyard with a fountain, two small stone benches and a flowering lemon tree. “Big brass balls, then?”

Bolan smiled. “I can hear them clanking while you walk, Bill.”

Lord William flushed with pleasure. He pulled out his cell phone and punched a button. “Hello, Lunk! In position, then? Right. I’m facing the north wall of the courtyard. Jolly good. Heave away, then!”

Bolan looked up into the sky to see Lord William’s canvas pouch hurtling over the roof. The man clicked his phone shut and shook his head in wonder. “I swear that man could hurl a grappling iron over the Eiffel Tower. Be a good lad and catch that, would you?”

Bolan caught the package and handed it to Lord William. The little canvas bag was a handgun horn of plenty. Lord William produced a pair of Walther PPK pistols and handed one to Bolan. It was underpowered by Bolan’s standards, but the pistol was reliable, a classic, and best of all, the enemy had no idea they had them. He checked the loads in the little .32 and tucked it into the pocket of his jacket. Lord William gave him a spare 7-round magazine and tossed the empty pouch behind the lemon tree just as Grietje came out with a tray of coffee, brandy and cigars.

Lord William gave his coffee a healthy watering of brandy and let Bolan light his cigar. The two men drank coffee and Glen-Patrick blew smoke up toward the sky as they waited for their host.

“Bill!” Clive Jennings threw open the door and came out grinning. “Good to see you!”

Bolan sized up Jennings. He was just a shade under six feet, and his French-cut suit was tailored to accentuate his trim physique. His blond hair had enough product keeping it in place that it would take a gale-force wind to move it. His personality was hyperintense. He practically bounced across the courtyard. Jennings shook Lord William’s hand hard enough to make the older man wince. “How’ve you been, man! Came out of your self-imposed exile on the island, then, did you?”

“Something like that.” Lord William retrieved his hand and put it in the same pocket as his PPK. “This my associate, Mr. Cooper.”

Jennings slapped his hand into Bolan’s. He grinned as he gave Bolan the bone crusher. “Nice to meet you, Coop!”

He’d had his suspicions, but now, shaking the man’s hand and looking into his green eyes, Bolan was certain.

Clive Jennings was a sociopath.

Bolan squeezed back just enough to prevent his hand from being broken. He noted the golden Oxford University signet ring as they let go. “Heard a lot about you, Clive.”

“All lies?”

“No, worse,” Bolan replied. “The truth.”

Jennings threw back his head and laughed a bit too heartily. He clearly dismissed Bolan as a spear-carrier. He returned his attention to Lord William. “Well, I’m surprised to see you, Bill.”

“Well, I wanted to have a word, Clive, and I wanted to look you in the eye rather than talk over the phone.”

“Sounds mysterious, Bill.” Jennings smiled good-naturedly, his eyes unreadable. “What’s this all about?”

“Well…” Lord William looked down at his shoes in embarrassment. “To tell you the truth, Clive, I’m rather between fortunes at the moment.”

Jennings cocked his head. “You’ve been at the baccarat tables again, haven’t you?”

“Nothing quite so romantic. The fact is I’ve never had much of a head for business. Some investments haven’t panned out. Indeed, they’ve cost me rather dearly.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, old man. You’ve done quite well.” The words were solicitous, but Jennings’s body language told an entirely different story. He loved Lord William coming to the business he’d stolen from him with his hat in his hand. “You’ll land on your feet and be flush again in no time. You always do.”

Lord William squared his shoulders, seeming to summon what dignity he had left. “Clive, I’m not a young man anymore. The truth is, I need your help.”

“Well, I suppose I could arrange a loan for you.” Jennings shrugged. “I’d be willing to accept your shares in the company as collateral.”

“That’s generous of you, Clive, but what I really need are some good men.”

Jennings blinked. “Men?”

“I’m an old man, Clive, but I think I may have one last adventure left in me. Mr. Cooper came to me with a rather harebrained scheme. So harebrained, in fact, it sounds like it almost might work.”

Jennings was clearly intrigued. “You have a mission?”

Bolan kept the smile off of his face and reminded himself never to play cards with Lord William.

“I’ll be blunt, Clive. It’s a treasure hunt.”

“A treasure hunt?”

The old man flashed his trademark grin. “You know me, Clive. Diamonds have always been my best friends. Mr. Cooper’s research is quite solid, and I’ve had it discreetly verified. They’re there. The bugger of it is, the location is remote, and the terrain, the locals and the local government could only be described as exceptionally hostile. I need to put together a team, and I’ve lost contact with most of the men I worked with in the past. For that matter, most of the men I know from when I was running the company are like me, ten years past it, if not more. I’m not asking you for money, Clive. I need a few good men. Then the money will come.”

“‘Gold does not find good soldiers, but good soldiers are quite capable of finding gold.’” Jennings was quoting Prince Machiavelli. “Or in this case, diamonds.”

“Just so, old man.” Lord William grinned. “Just so.”

“So…” Jennings frowned in thought. “You want me to recommend some men for you, then, is it?”

“I’d like to look at the current company roster. See who’s been where, what languages they speak and all that. There will be some aspects of this jaunt that will require some very specific skills. I want to put together a short list and begin interviewing as quickly as possible.”

“You need to tell me more, Bill.”

“’Fraid I can’t, Clive.” Lord William smiled slyly. “You’re something of a go-getter. I think if I told you too much about it, you might just go off and get them yourself.”

“Well, that is possible.” Jennings smiled slightly at the compliment. “But our list of associates as well as recruitment are my purview, and our associates depend on our discretion and respect of their serving in anonymity.”

“I believe most of the men on the roster would lose their little minds if they knew Red-Hot Willy was looking for a few good men.”

“That may be.” Jennings sighed in mock reluctance. “But I’m afraid I can’t do it.”

“I’ll cut you in for ten percent.”

“Ten percent of nothing is still nothing, Bill. You don’t have anything yet, and treasure hunts have a habit of turning out badly in my experience. As a matter of fact, most of them don’t turn up anything other than debt. It’s not a good investment in men or publicity. For that matter Aegis Global Security doesn’t need our associates being captured and rotting in some third-world prison.”

“Clive, I need this.”

“I can’t help you, old man.” The words were an insult coming off Jennings’s lips.

Lord William stared up into the clouds for long moments and reluctantly played his ace. “I’ll sell you my shares.”

An ugly light gleamed in Clive Jennings’s eyes. “Your shares aren’t worth that much, Bill.”

“Oh, I think they’re worth far more to you than what they’re listed at.”

Jennings shrugged indifferently.

“My shares and ten percent.” Lord William put a wounded look in his eyes. “It’s my last hurrah, Clive. Help out an old man.”

Lord William had built Aegis with his own sweat and blood. Jennings had stolen it with ones and zeroes. It was very clear that Jennings despised the old man. It was also clear that Jennings was very capable and shrewd. He smiled at Lord William. “Bill?”

“Yes, Clive?”

“You’re up to something.”

“Well, to be honest, yes.” Lord William dropped the act. “Clive, I really do need to have a look at the current Aegis roster of associates.”

“You can bring it up at the next shareholders’ meeting.” Jennings’s smile was sickening. “Now, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“’Fraid I’m going to have to insist, Clive.”

Bolan cocked the Walther in his pocket. It was a small noise but noticeable in the sudden quiet in the courtyard. Jennings shook his head. “What? You’re going to threaten me with a cigarette lighter?” He started to reach under his jacket.

Bolan took the cocked PPK out of his pocket and pointed it at Jennings’s face.

The man’s eyes widened. He was clearly used to being in control of every situation. Being caught flatfooted was an alien experience. He nearly made a move as Bolan reached under his jacket and relieved him of his two-tone 9 mm SIG-Sauer P-239 pistol but apparently thought better of it.

“Now, let’s have a look at that roster, then,” Lord William cajoled.

Jennings slowly folded his arms across his chest. “No.”

“No?” Lord William took out his Walther and thumbed back the hammer. “Are you sure?”

“You’re not going to shoot me, and neither is your friend.”

Lord William frowned. “We’re not?”

“No, you need to get into the computer and only I have the access codes to Aegis operational files.”

“Hmm.” Lord William scratched his jaw with the muzzle of his pistol as he considered the problem. “Guess we’ll just have to beat it out of you.”

Jennings looked at Bolan in speculation and Lord William in open scorn. “Try.”

“Right!” Lord William cupped a hand beside his mouth. “Lunk!”

Lunk arose on the roof. It seemed he had scaled the side of the building. Jennings’s mouth dropped open as the giant Welshman slid down one of the courtyard’s drainpipes and landed on his feet without a sound. It was genuinely disturbing to see a man that large move with such silence. Lord William dropped all pretense of polite behavior and snarled, “Now, you listen to me, you poncey little git. I don’t give a good god damn what bloody dan-ranking you have in judo. You just aren’t ready for what Lunk is going to do to you, and he’s wanted a piece of you for a very long time. Now you are going to give me complete access to my company, or I’m going to fucking feed you to him.”

Lunk leaned down to nearly press his face against Jennings’s. “Going to beat seven bloody shades of shite out of you, mate.”

Jennings was reduced to stuttering. “I…I…”

Lord William prodded the man with his PPK. “Good lad. I knew we could work this out.”