Читать книгу Patriot Play - Don Pendleton - Страница 10

Stony Man Farm, Virginia

The digital and fingerprint images sent from Bolan were in the system, being scanned by the FBI’s AFIS recognition program. Kurtzman also had them being scanned by military databases and any other recognition systems he could work into his search. Huntington Wethers was taking his turn watching the scans running across his monitors. It was just over an hour when he got his first hit.

“We got one,” he called.

Kurtzman rolled up to Wethers’s workstation as a hard copy slid from the printer. He snatched it up and scanned the information.

“There it is,” he said. “Henry Jacks. He’s done time for assault. Over the past ten years he’s been associated with three different militia groups. Guess who he’s been with the last three years? The Brethren. He hates the government and doesn’t agree with anything they do. He has been quoted as saying ‘when we burn you down, it will be a new day for real Americans.’”

“His burning days are over,” Wethers said.

“Let me run a check on known associates,” Kurtzman said. “We might hit lucky.”

It was quickly found that Jacks’s two closest friends were both members of the Brethren, and a cross-check revealed they had both died in the assault on Jerome Gantz’s Tyler Point home.

Carmen Delahunt, who had been quietly monitoring her data input, called for Kurtzman’s attention. “A news service in Washington just received a claim from a group calling itself America the Free. They are saying they are responsible for the recent bombings, and there are more to come.”

“New name to me,” Kurtzman said.

“I just ran a trace through FBI files,” Delahunt said. She was former FBI herself, so her knowledge of their procedures was a great help to Stony Man. “There’s no data on such a group. But the information they included in their claim is pretty close to what the FBI has on the bombings.”

Kurtzman pondered on that. “Okay, Carmen, you stay on that for a while. See what else you can find on America the Free. There’s something odd in this. Let’s see if we can dig it up.”

Kurtzman relayed the current information to Bolan and advised they were continuing with the identification of the others involved.

Tyler Bay Hotel

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION came through the laptop, and it was Bolan’s turn to check the screen when another Brethren connection popped up. He found himself staring at an image that took him back to the Gantz house and the boat retreating into the fog shrouding the bay.

The image stared at him from the screen. A long, lean-featured face. The stare was hard and direct, and above it the hair was pale and cut short. It was the man Bolan had seen at the stern rail. He had been right at the time—it was a face he wouldn’t forget. He called Lyons to take a look.

“He’s the one I spotted on the boat just as it pulled away. Deacon Ribak. One of the Brethren’s top lieutenants. Ex-Army Ranger out of Fort Benning, Georgia. Served thirteen years. Last couple of years his personal politics clashed with the Army’s. He refused to change his views and took a discharge a couple of years ago. Joined the Brethren six months later and has been with them ever since. He’s a trained professional, Carl. He’s seen a lot of hard action.” Bolan ran his fingers down the column that detailed Ribak’s military career. “One hell of an asset for the Brethren.”

“I still don’t get why they hit Gantz. What they did screams interrogation. If you want the guy dead, it can be done quick and easy. Unless you want him to tell you something.”

There was a knock on the door. Lyons turned and flattened himself against the wall, his Colt Python in his hand, as Bolan crossed the room and cautiously opened the door. Chief Harper stood on the threshold.

“Come in, Chief,” Bolan said, more to warn Lyons to stand down.

Harper stepped inside. When Bolan closed the door the cop saw Lyons putting his weapon away.

“Don’t tell me you guys sleep with your guns under your pillows.”

Bolan smiled. “I keep mine in my hand and one eye open.”

“Damned if I don’t believe you.”

“What can we do for you, Chief?”

“Quit the ‘Chief’ crap. The name’s Jason.”

“Coffee?”

Harper nodded. “I feel like I’ve done a week’s shifts in one night.”

Lyons handed him a cup. “You mean, this isn’t normal for Tyler Bay?”

“Hell, no. If it was, I’d been retired and gone by now. I came to tell you I had a call from county hospital. Gantz is still in surgery. The outlook isn’t too good. Apart from the damage those big .50s did, he has broken ribs on both sides of his body and two kneecaps more mush than bone. Lower jaw totally shattered and most of his teeth are gone. That crack on his head split his skull clear open.”

“Your officer get anything from him?” Bolan asked.

If Harper thought that was coldhearted he made no comment. He simply shook his head. “Edgar stayed with him all the way to the hospital. Gantz didn’t say a thing. Edgar didn’t leave his side until they wheeled him into the operating room. He’s still there in case Gantz survives. Not that it seems likely.”

“Something to look forward to,” Lyons said quietly.

Harper rounded on him. “Son, I figure you’ve had a tough time tonight, but every man deserves a little Christian pity when he’s down.”

“You think so?” Lyons snapped. “Get out of small-town U.S.A. and smell the real world, Chief.”

Bolan stood between them. He put a big hand on Lyons’s shoulder. “Doug, go and cool down, okay?” He met Lyons’s anger with a calm manner that stood the Able Team leader down. He turned aside and crossed the room to stare out the window.

The soldier faced Harper. “You heard about the bombings and saw the TV reports cut and dried for public viewing. We had the official versions. No hiding the results of those explosions. Every little detail. Men, women and especially the children. Innocent victims. Americans like you and me, Jason. Going about their business and not expecting what happened to them. It doesn’t leave us much room for pity when we realize this was done by Americans to Americans. We have to deal with the aftermath, and have done so before. There are times it’s hard to distance ourselves. Sometimes we succeed. Other times we don’t.”

Bolan’s quiet explanation had its calming effect on the cop. Harper drew a hand across his tired features, staring into the blue eyes of the big man who seemed to have total control of anything that came his way. He was unaware it was the way Mack Bolan dealt with tangled emotions. The ability to move away from crisis moments and bring his natural skills as a mediator into a tense situation. It served Bolan well. He employed the same emotion to clear his own anger when faced with a mental struggle.

Over his years of conflict he had learned long ago there were times he needed to detach himself. Not to completely forget the evil his enemies employed, but to put them on standby while he refreshed his mind and body. The things he had seen he would never fully forget. That was an impossibility even for the Executioner. It was not something he wanted to forget. As long as he had his memories of the terrible things witnessed in the past, he remained strong for his battles in the future. Mack Bolan was human. A caring human being. He understood the deep and dark acts his enemies were capable of. He was also aware of his own strengths, which kept him fighting his War Everlasting.

Harper glanced across to where Lyons stood at the window, shoulders hunched and taut as he struggled to contain his anger. “Could be maybe I have been here in Tyler Bay too long. Backwater town. Nothing much happens. Worse thing about it is, I like it that way.” He looked at Bolan. “Hell of an admission for a professional cop.”

“You keep it that way, Jason. So we can all remember there are places like Tyler Bay. That there are still sane and safe places in the middle of the madness. That’s something we all need to hang on to.”

“I guess so.” Harper went across to Lyons. “Rough night for us all, son. Best excuse I can come up with right now.”

Lyons turned to face him. “No sweat, Chief. I blow hot too fast sometimes.”

“Way I hear it, you got more right than anyone to do just that.”

Incoming mail made itself heard on the laptop. Bolan opened the message.

Boat was on a charter from a marine rental company up the coast. It was paid for with plastic. I accessed the details. It was charged to a company in Philadelphia. South Star Investments. Operated by a guy called Arnold Petrie. Hope you are sitting down for next piece of info. It took me some time unraveling all the strings but I came up with a name that rang dim and distant bells. Ran it again until a name came through. Thin link, but the guy fronting the Philly company has a connection, albeit skinny, to the Eric Stahl Corporation. You owe me big-time, big guy.

IN THE MORNING, following breakfast, Bolan and Lyons checked out and drove to a final meet with Chief Harper.

“I was going to give you a call,” Harper said as they walked into the station house.

“Good or bad call?” Bolan asked.

“I figure it depends how you feel on the subject. I just spoke with my officer at County Hospital. Gantz died around 2:00 a.m.”

“Can’t say I’m heartbroken. Not after what the guy did.”

“I guess not,” Harper said. “Bad way to die though.” He glanced at Lyons. “No offense meant, Agent Benning.”

Lyons shrugged. “You sow what you reap,” he said, and that piece of philosophy got him a puzzled look from Bolan.

“I got the number you gave me,” Harper said. “If anything comes up I’ll pass it along. Likewise if anyone comes asking about Gantz. By the way, I’ve got the house sealed off if any other agencies show up. Like you told me, I’ll refer them to your contact.” Harper reached down and opened a drawer in his desk. “Almost forgot. One of my deputies found this in the pocket of one of Gantz’s jackets.” He held out a plastic bag containing a slim cell phone. “You must have interrupted his visitors before they made a full search of the house. Think it might be useful?”

“We’ll know that after I send it to our people.” Bolan held out his hand. “Missed it myself. Appreciate your help, Jason.”

“Any time, guys. Tyler Bay always likes to give visitors a welcome.” He grinned. “Your kind of visitors, I mean.”

“You sure as hell did that, Chief,” Lyons said.

“Take care,” Harper called as the two walked out of his office.

Watching them go, Harper shook his head. Some night, he thought, then realized he’d forgotten all about his date with Callie. He grabbed his hat and hotfooted it to the diner.