Hellfire Code

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Bolan put his eye to the scope once more and leaned his shoulder against the rubberized buttplate of the rifle stock. He had no plan at this point to gun down his enemy. Downing’s death wouldn’t necessarily secure an end to OSI’s plans. Downing was too smart for that. He’d have a backup scenario in the works. His time in the NSA would have taught Downing to prepare alternatives. The guy was a tried-and-true strategist whose background would have taught him to prepare more than one battle plan.

Bolan watched as an unmarked sedan bearing four men parked at the curb behind the Jeepney. Then four men exited the vehicle, he pegged them as a security team when they fanned out to surround Downing. The Executioner hadn’t planned for an encounter here and now, but the civilian traffic was light.

The soldier watched through the scope as Neely’s cab arrived and the NSA agent stepped onto the sidewalk. Neely waved to Downing, the prearranged signal that all could proceed as planned.

Bolan sighted carefully on Neely’s chest. The first chambered round was a subsonic cartridge the Executioner had modified to yield half the normal impact. He took a breath, let half out. His finger wrapped around the trigger, the pad resting naturally against its curvature, and gave a steady squeeze. Neely’s chest exploded in a crimson spray that washed over Downing and his escort.

Bolan sighted next on one of the security men. He squeezed the trigger again and this time a high-velocity 7.62 mm bullet traveled to the target in milliseconds. The man’s head burst open like a melon under a sledgehammer, and his corpse slammed against the adobe facade of the building. Pandemonium erupted as Bolan sighted on a third target to deliver a similar fate.

The Executioner swung the scope toward the front door and watched as the escort pushed Downing through the doorway. Bolan sighted on the target, and through the scope magnification he noticed the man matched Neely’s description of Alek Stezhnya. Bolan squeezed off a shot, but the man moved inside at the last moment and evaded the deadly projectile intended for his chest.

The other pair on the security team grabbed cover and wildly searched the area around them, apparently oblivious to the fact the assault had come from above. Bolan left the scope and yanked on the PSG-1 to pull it from view. Quickly and efficiently, he folded the mounted bipod against the weapon, took to his feet and headed for the rooftop entrance.

Bolan descended the stairs two at a time, careful to keep the rifle balanced as he moved. He’d arranged the entire operation with Neely, and he could only hope the ruse worked. The fact Neely had kept his word confirmed Bolan’s intuition the guy was on the side of his country.

Downing would know it was a setup, but that didn’t much matter now since he thought Neely was dead. He’d have to go to revert to his backup plan, and that would reduce his options. Bolan had wrenched the offensive from Downing. That would leave the guy feeling cornered and thereby more prone to mistakes.

And that was exactly where Bolan wanted him.

GARRETT DOWNING STRUGGLED to get his shaking hands under control.

When the shooting started, the rented Jeepney cab that had delivered them—driven by one of his men and not a local—tore from the scene and circled the block. Stezhnya had already put an evacuation plan in the works for just such an event. The Russian-American’s quick thinking had saved their lives, and Downing wasn’t sure it was a debt he could repay. Not that Stezhnya would have bothered to mention it.

Stezhnya guided him into the back seat of the Jeepney. He turned to scan the rear and verify nobody followed, then stepped in and slammed the door shut. He ordered the driver to get them out of there, and then turned his attention to Downing.

“Are you all right, sir?”

“Thanks to you,” Downing replied.

If Stezhnya noticed the unchecked admiration in Downing’s voice, he made no sign of it.

“How did you know?” Downing asked.

“I understand men like Neely, sir,” Stezhnya said with a shrug. “They’re not to be trusted. I didn’t trust him from the beginning.”

Downing nodded. “You told me. Several times as I recall. I should have listened to you.”

“Looks like whoever he sold us out to had their own agenda.”

“You think Neely’s dead?”

It was hard to judge whether the upturned corner of Stezhnya’s mouth was a half grin or a sneer until he said, “Seeing as we’re both covered in his blood, and what our own men suffered, it would be hard to convince me he’s anything but, sir.” After a pause, he said, “What do you want to do now?”

Downing didn’t want to admit it, but he hadn’t thought of anything else up to that point. He couldn’t believe Neely had betrayed them, although he’d lined up a set of alternatives for each phase of the operation. With Neely dead, Downing would have to rely on his secondary sources of information inside the NSA and other U.S. intelligence networks. Sometimes that information was untimely, or even tended to be inaccurate if current.

“To be honest, I had a backup plan for just such an eventuality, but I didn’t honestly think we’d have to use it,” Downing finally replied.

“I take it that means you want me to recall my men from the United States?”

Downing nodded. “All units go on the alert immediately. You’ll leave with your in-country team at dawn.”

“Understood. And what about this new threat?”

“You’re the tactical expert, here. What do you propose we do about them, or…him, perhaps?”

“You think it’s Cooper behind the attack.”

“What other explanation do we have for Neely getting killed? Grant you, Neely wasn’t that bright, but he would have considered Cooper an ally. Maybe he trusted him to protect his family. We knew they were trading information about the New Corsican Front before we even approached Neely about him.”

“Who do you think this Cooper really is?”

Downing sighed and didn’t reply for a time. “If I don’t miss my guess, I’d say he’s some type of covert operations specialist, possibly even military or ex-military. It seems odd, however, that he operates with significant impunity.”

Stezhnya appeared to give Downing’s statement some thought, but before he could conjure a reply his cell phone rang.

“Yeah?” He paused to listen, then, “What? What did you just say?” Another long pause. “No, I understand. Thank you for the report. Keep all channels open in case there’s been a mistake. And by the way, put units three and four on alert.”

Stezhnya slowly closed the cover to his phone. When he turned to face Downing, his complexion had paled. “The team in the States is dead. Dead! I swear to you, sir, this Cooper is now the sworn enemy of the Apparatus. I vow to you this night, before this operation is complete I will dangle his head on a pole for the entire world to see!”

“I don’t doubt it, Alek,” Downing said quietly.

Downing saw the murderous hate in Stezhnya’s eyes. Under normal circumstances he would have counseled Stezhnya to not let anger and his taste for revenge become an obsession, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. The man had a right to be angry. Part of it was stupid pride—Downing knew the pride because he’d dealt with many soldiers like Stezhnya before—but another part was justified rage. To have lectured the man now would serve no purpose but to fuel his anger.

Instead he said simply, “Every man must do what he thinks is just. But be aware that I don’t want anything to distract you. The mission must come first. Then you may seek whatever retribution you feel is fitting for Cooper. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Stezhnya said, his voice barely audible through clenched teeth. “Perfectly. But I wish to go on record by saying I think the mission could suffer if we don’t eliminate this Cooper as soon as possible.”

Stezhnya knew Downing wouldn’t be able to ignore the statement.

“What makes you think so?”

Stezhnya turned some in the seat to face Downing. “Let’s examine this man closely for a moment. Since we executed our initial operation against the French-Arabs, Cooper has been one step behind us. That team of thugs you hired initially to throw him off the trail did anything but. He knew about Hagen, and he had enough savvy to track my men to the warehouse in Atlanta.”

“So what?”

“You say that as if it’s unimportant,” Stezhnya said. “This man took down that gang, and the hit team we sent to Hagen’s, to speak nothing of his assault against my men. Those the were the finest trained men in the Apparatus. They were the best, sir.

“Now he’s found his way here and most probably he masterminded the attack on us and the assassination of Neely. Obviously, this man operates without discretion or restraint, and it seems he would have the sanction to operate with impunity where the American government is concerned. Do you honestly believe this man will stop now?”