“Let me take him, Walt,” he said. “I want to finish him.”

  Torrance moved closer, gesturing with his shotgun for Bolan and Kowalski to step back against the side of her cruiser.

  “No. Cameron wants this son of a bitch alive.” The ragged laugh coming from the sheriff sounded as if he was really enjoying himself. “Cooper, he is going to be a happy man when I drop you in his lap.”

  “I can’t believe you’d do this,” Kowalski said and felt foolish the moment she spoke.

  “Think I give a damn what you believe?” Torrance said. “You figure you’re so smart. It’s been going on right under your nose all the time, and you didn’t see it. How dumb does that make you, Deputy?”

  Kowalski’s cheeks flushed with anger. Bolan admired the way she refused to back down from his smug expression.

  “Sheriff, I feel sick just looking at you wearing that badge. You and Magruder are scum. If I had my gun right—”

  “Well, you don’t, missy. Lonny took it away from you.”

  Magruder gave a snort of laughter. He used his shirtsleeve to scrub at the mess of blood dribbling down his chin. “That’s right, Deputy.” He leaned in close, his eyes bright with some secret thought. “But if you want I got something in my pants you could hold.”

  If revulsion had been a lethal emotion, Magruder would have been dead in the dirt at that moment, Bolan realized.

  The words were barely out of his mouth when Kowalski looked him square in the face. “The way I heard it, Lonny, what you do have in there isn’t worth the effort of handling.”

  The man’s face suffused with color. He let out a screech of anger, lunging at Kowalski, all caution evaporating in that moment. As he moved, he slid his nightstick free and slashed it around, clipping her across one cheek. She twisted aside and in that hectic moment Bolan saw, and took, the window of opportunity she had opened for him.

  He powered away from the front of his SUV, slamming into Magruder and catapulting him directly into Torrance’s path. The two collided, Magruder’s nightstick flailing and cracking across the bridge of the sheriff’s nose. Torrance bellowed in pain, tears filling his eyes and blood squirting from his nose. Bolan followed up behind Magruder. He slammed his open palm against the back of the deputy’s skull, ramming his head forward to connect with Torrance’s face. The entangled pair stumbled, attempting to separate themselves from each other. Bolan drove a booted foot into the back of Magruder’s left leg, collapsing it and the deputy yelled, sagging as his leg went from under him. Torrance shook his head, spraying blood in a wide arc. He lifted the SPAS, tracking in on Bolan’s moving figure.

  The Executioner swept his right palm forward and knocked the shotgun barrel to the side in the instant before Torrance pulled the trigger. The SPAS exploded with sound, the deadly shot cleaving thin air. Bolan wrapped his hands around the weapon, twisted and broke the sheriff’s grip on the shotgun. He let it fall to the ground, straight-armed Torrance with his left hand and lashed out with a brutal backhand that rolled the sheriff around. Bolan snatched the pistol from Torrance’s holster and bounced it off the man’s skull, driving Torrance to his knees.

  Behind Bolan a pained grunt erupted from Magruder’s lips as Kowalski stepped in close and booted him across the side of his head. She bent and picked up her pistol and followed in Bolan’s shadow. He grabbed the fallen SPAS, turned and blew out the tires on Magruder’s cruiser, then did the same to Torrance’s.

  “Let’s go,” Bolan said. He yanked open the door of his rental, dropped the shotgun and Torrance’s handgun on the cab floor and slid behind the wheel. Kowalski ran around and climbed into the passenger seat as the Executioner fired up the engine. Tires screeched as he drove the SUV away from the scene, bouncing over the curb before he hit the highway. He floored the gas pedal, feeling the powerful engine surge. The big SUV sped along the empty road, Bolan ignoring warning signs and speed restrictions.

  “I should be writing you a whole stack of tickets,” Kowalski said. “We try to encourage safe driving in McQueen.”

  Bolan glanced at her and saw she had a slight smile on her lips. “Deputy, you have a strange sense of humor.”

  “My dad’s always telling me that. So where are we going, Cooper? My place, or yours?”

  “For the time being we stay away from both,” Bolan said.

  Kowalski took a moment to look around, running her hands through her thick hair. “Dammit, Cooper, what the hell is going on? Since you showed up in McQueen County, it’s turned crazy. First Lonny, then Torrance gunning for you—like you were some psycho on the run from solitary.” She glared at Bolan. “You’re not on the run, are you? Just what is your story?”

  “Deputy—Erin—I can’t prove anything yet. All I can tell you is what I know. Lou Cameron and his brother Nathan head an organized crime syndicate dealing in illegal weapons. They supply whatever their clients want. Lately they’ve started pushing hijacked military ordnance to customers in Chicago and Newark. I came into this after Miami cops were slaughtered on the city streets by warring gangs. Those gang members were armed with military-grade automatic weapons. The cops were outgunned and didn’t stand a chance. Those weapons were brokered by Cameron’s organization.”

  “It was you,” Kowalski said. “News media had it all over the networks. Hits in Chicago and Newark—the police found dead street hoods at both places and weapons that had been destroyed. They said it must have been gangs taking each other down, but no one could figure out why the weapons were destroyed. It didn’t make sense, but it does now. I’m right, Cooper. That’s why you came down here to McQueen County. To take Cameron out of the game. It’s why Torrance has been after you. I only just found out earlier today that Torrance and Magruder are working for Cameron. Torrance took a phone call from Cameron to have you snatched, or killed. Tell me I’m wrong, Cooper.”

  “That’s why I’m here, Erin. Cameron and his organization are selling weapons to any criminal who can come up with the money. He doesn’t give a damn what happens once he makes his deals. The law is having a hard time getting the goods on him because he’s protected on all sides. He can afford the best legal defense to run rings around the law-enforcement agencies. Plus he’s buying interference in the form of crooked cops like Torrance and Magruder.”

  “You must think I’m so stupid,” Kowalski said bitterly. “I was right there, working with them and didn’t see a damn thing.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Torrance will have everything tied up because he’s the lead cop in the department. He can cover for Cameron, make problems disappear. He has the clout to control what information comes and goes.”

  “Then he’s been pulling the strings of every cop in McQueen. Dammit, Cooper, he made fools of us all.”

  “Work on the assumption you can’t trust anyone. Go by your own instincts. In a situation like this it’s the only way to survive.”

  “Is that how you work, Cooper? You don’t trust anyone? Anyone?”

  “It’s a selective option, Erin,” Bolan said, smiling at her question.

  The deputy settled back in her seat, staring out through the windshield, lost in thought. Bolan concentrated on his driving and left Kowalski to whatever was demanding her attention. He felt her conclusion might be running along the lines he was looking at himself.

  “It has to be the plant,” she said without preamble, breaking her silence. “Cameron Oil.”

  “I’m listening,” Bolan said. She had reached the same conclusion as he had.

  “Twenty miles out of town—more or less in desert country. Cameron has a fleet of tankers that collect and deliver. They can move in any direction. Even across the border into Mexico. Cooper, it’s an ideal setup for transporting illegal cargo. There’s most likely a storage area for the ordnance within the plant.” Kowalski glanced at Bolan, willing him to respond. “Well? Doesn’t it make sense?”

  “Could be.”

  “Wow, how are you keeping your enthusiasm under such control?” The sarcasm was strong in her voice.

  “I’m not trying to dismiss it, Erin. I think you’ve hit on something. Same as me.”

  “So what are we going to do about it? And before you even consider it, I’m not walking away. This is you and me. All the way. Torrance made a mistake when he figured me for just a girl with a gun. I don’t enjoy feeling that I’ve been treated like an idiot.”

  “I can see that,” Bolan said. “Just remember these people play for keeps. The fact you’re a woman won’t buy you any favors.”

  “Okay, since we’ve established that, what next?”

  “I think that visit to check out Cameron Oil is still on the cards.”

  “Let me show you how we can sneak in around the blind side, then, Cooper.”

  17

  There was a full moon, enabling Bolan to drive without lights. Kowalski proved she knew the territory well. She guided him with uncanny accuracy, bringing them to within a half mile of Cameron Oil, by way of trails that barely seemed to exist. They had been driving for almost three hours when she brought him to a stop. Bolan killed the engine. The silence out here in the rugged, empty desert was absolute.

  “You know your territory.”

  “Being born here and having a father who’s a cop helps.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Now we walk,” she said.

  The Executioner went around to the rear of the SUV and raised the door. He slid his equipment bag to the edge of the space and opened it. Even in the pale light from the full moon Kowalski could see the weapons collection. While Bolan set himself up she examined his ordnance with a professional eye.

  “Cooper, you could start a war with all this.”

  “This is a war,” he said. “And it has to be fought.”

  The conviction in his voice made her realize just how serious he was. He was no vigilante with a death wish. He was a man dedicated to his mission, and she saw he would fight it with every fiber of his being. She could have plagued him with questions about who he really was. Why he was involved. An endless barrage of queries. She didn’t. Surprisingly, Kowalski held back. For one thing this was not the time to interrogate him. What they were doing was risky enough. The last thing she wanted to do was to throw him off balance with, what he would consider, irritating probing. On reflection, she decided it would take more than female curiosity to take his mind off his upcoming business. So she stayed silent.

  From the corner of her eye she saw him peel off his outer clothing to reveal the one-piece blacksuit. He pulled on sturdy boots, then a combat harness. There was a shoulder rig that held a pistol she didn’t recognize, then a waist belt with a holster for a big Desert Eagle on one side and a sheathed knife on the other. She saw the competent way he checked each handgun, adding extra magazines to the pouches on the harness. A 9 mm Uzi was slung across his back. He worked quietly, efficiently, with the ease of a seasoned warrior, and she suspected that somewhere in his past he had been a combat soldier. The training they received stayed with them, an awareness that survival depended on being ready at all times. Her dad had been a Marine, and the values he had absorbed flowed over into civilian life, so watching Bolan, Kowalski understood in part what drove him.

  Commitment.

  Loyalty.

  The ingrained dedication to a cause.

  Satisfied with his gear, Bolan reached into his war bag and eased out an M-4 A-1 rifle. He located an SAI M80 sound suppressor and screwed it into place before handing the rifle to Kowalski. He didn’t have to ask if she was familiar with the weapon as she checked it, tapping the full magazine he gave her on the solid edge of the vehicle pillar before snapping it in place. Loosening the 5.56 mm cartridges to prevent possible seizure was an old military trick. Bolan suspected her father had taught her that. With the M-4 cocked and locked, the deputy waited for his orders.

  “We go in quiet,” Bolan said. “When I say to, you take position and cover my back. You don’t come any closer. I need to reach the perimeter fence so I can make my recon.”

  “Will you go inside?”

  “That depends on what I get from a close check. If Torrance has told Cameron about our encounter, there could be increased activity. If there is, it might work in our favor and show us more than we expected.” Bolan studied her face. “If you think this is more than you can handle, Erin, say so now and you can stay here by the vehicle.”

  “If we’d known each other for longer, that question wouldn’t even come up. I won’t quit on you, Cooper.”

  “If it does get hot and you need to defend yourself, I have only one rule. Hit the other guy before he takes his shot. No remorse. No hesitation. Remember he’s going to be thinking the same. Worry later. Combat is like living. You get one run at it. Screw it up there’s no going back for a redo. Understand?”

  Kowalski nodded. “Cooper, you’re a bundle of laughs.”

  Bolan touched her shoulder, then led the way out.

  The lights of the plant stood out in the desert gloom. Powerful lamps threw shafts of illumination beyond the perimeter fences, so it was no hardship for Bolan and Kowalski when it came to getting a fix on their target. As promised, the deputy had brought them in by the back door, with the western section of the high fence directly ahead.

  They had, as well as the near-dark conditions, plenty of natural cover from the local vegetation—patches of creosote bush, mesquite, stands of cactus and yucca. The soft ground allowed them easy passage as they neared the perimeter fence.

  At four hundred yards Bolan stopped, crouching low to the ground. He could see movement beyond the steel fence. There were men and vehicles, with plenty of activity taking place. Kowalski took up her position slightly behind Bolan. She could see the same scene and refrained from speaking while she observed. Bolan had taken his powerful monocular from a pocket, using it to get a closer look at what was happening. The strong lights inside the fence gave him a clear picture, and he found he was able to see far more than he might have expected.

  The familiar configuration of boxes and crates were being lifted from what seemed to be a concrete bunker set low to the ground. The bunker was set close to the western section of the plant, away from the main production area where a maze of pipe and storage tanks was situated. Cameron had his illegal operation set inside the plant, as Bolan and Kowalski had figured. And right before their eyes he was moving what appeared to be a considerable amount of cargo.

  Was it because Cameron had been warned of Bolan’s presence? Had he taken note and decided to shift his cache of weapons to another location? It was entirely possible this was nothing more than a normal run for Cameron. Shifting goods to be delivered to a client? Whatever was really going on, Bolan had struck gold.

  “They’re loading up for a run,” he said to Kowalski. “You stay here and cover my back. I want to get closer to make a definite ID.”

  “Be careful,” the deputy said.

  She bellied down, the M-4 A-1 cradled in her arms as she watched Bolan crawl away into the shadows. She followed his progress as he edged in toward the fence.

  THE UNEVEN TERRAIN made it easier for Bolan to work his way to within inches of the perimeter fence. He was able to position himself at a point where the vehicle loading was within fifteen feet. He scanned the scene.

  The dozen-strong crew was fully armed. Those doing the loading wore handguns while the rest carried SMGs. Bolan recognized Cameron and his brother, Nathan, supervising the loading of the cargo into a long wheelbase heavy-duty panel truck. The vehicle was fitted with wide tires for travel over the desert terrain. Parked nearby were two high-end 4x4s. Escort vehicles.

  Bolan was within earshot of Cameron and his brother and picked up their conversation.

  “…where did Cooper go?”

  “Good question,” Cameron said. “If he figures he’s been exposed, probably gone to ground. Suits me until we get this cargo on its way to Calvera. Then we can concentrate on hunting the mother down.”

  “You had any more news from back east?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Fuck, Lou, we had things running great until that bastard Cooper showed up and started blowing everything to hell. Then Poliokof starts jumping around and cutting our people down.”

  “That’s been expected for a time,” Cameron said. “The Russians have been waiting for their chance. Cooper jump-started things and Poliokof saw his opportunity.”

  One of the armed men walked over to Cameron.

  “That’s everything loaded, boss.”

  Cameron nodded. “Tell the boys to rest up. Move out at first light. Rendezvous with Calvera’s crew at the airstrip at ten. His plane will be there by then. Close the deal and get back here.”

  “Why Lender air base?” Nathan asked.

  “Because it’s got a good stretch of runway for that transport Calvera runs. It’s isolated, and it’s been closed since the Air Force cut back. Quit worrying, brother, and let’s get back home.”

  Cameron instructed his crew to close up and move out. As they drifted away, Bolan reversed his approach and made his way back to where Kowalski waited patiently.

  “Abandoned Air Force base called Lender. You know it?”

  “South,” she said. “About four hours from here.”

  “That’s where Cameron’s delivering to someone called Calvera. Rendezvous is for ten tomorrow morning.”

  “I know the way they’ll need to go. It’s the only half-decent track in the area.” She regarded him for a moment. “You think they’ll make it?”

  “Not a chance,” Bolan said.

  And he meant it.

  18

  Bolan ran a final check of his weapons. It was a purely reflex action coming from the warrior mentality. No fighting man could be accused of taking that matter lightly. Weapon malfunction in the heat of battle could end in disaster. So the Executioner, who had survived years of intense confrontation and high odds of defeat, understood the need to ensure his ordnance was in pristine condition. He laid his M72 LAW single-shot missiles beside him, each one close at hand for the moment when he might need them.

 

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