Chain Reaction

CHAPTER THREE

FBI Agent Sarah Mitchell crossed the parking lot outside the diner, balancing two paper cups of coffee and a couple of sandwiches in her hands. Her partner, Agent Joseph Brewster, saw her and quickly climbed out of the Crown Victoria. He moved around the car to relieve her of the load.

“You always do things the hard way.”

“You noticed.”

“Funny lady.”

They climbed back inside the car, closing the doors against the rising chill.

“This is one cold place,” Brewster said. He glanced across at his partner. “You sure you didn’t specially ask for this assignment?”

Mitchell took her time drinking her coffee before she looked at him.

“Why would I do that, Joe?”

“I can think of one reason. You have a weird sense of humor, and landing me here in the back of beyond would fit that.”

“You think I’d put myself through all this just to get a laugh?”

Brewster placed his coffee in the cup holder and proceeded to unwrap his sandwich. He checked the filling, nodding when he found it was beef.

“If I was playing jokes,” Mitchell said, “would I have brought your favorite kind of sandwich?”

“I guess not.”

They had just completed their meal when Mitchell felt her cell phone vibrate in her pocket. She took it out and checked the caller ID. She was disappointed it wasn’t from Ray Talbot, or his partner Jake Bermann. The call was from SAC Drake Duncan, her FBI superior.

“Sir?”

“You’re not going to like this, Mitchell.”

“Talbot?”

“He’s been found. It’s not good.”

Mitchell touched her partner on the arm.

“I’m putting you on speaker, sir.”

“Talbot has been found,” Duncan repeated for Brewster’s benefit.

“Not alive?”

“No. The body is about thirty miles from your current position in a place called Treebone. Some locals found the body, which had been dumped in a creek.”

“You want us to check it out?”

“Yes. I want an FBI presence in place. I want you to find out what happened. One more thing, Mitchell. Just remember Bermann is still missing too. I’ll get back to you with details.”

“Leaving now, sir,” Brewster said.

He gunned the Crown Victoria, tires skidding against the loose gravel as he swung back onto the highway.

Neither of them spoke for the first few miles. They had been expecting Duncan’s news. Agents Talbot and Bermann had been missing for a few days, and it hadn’t been looking good. Ray Talbot had always been an independent type of guy, liable to go off without keeping his teammates informed. It was the way he had operated, and he had always brought in good results. Even so, receiving the news of his death had been a shock.

It was Mitchell who broke the silence. She leaned forward and slammed her clenched first on the dash.

“Damn, damn, damn. What the hell is going on, Joe? This is crazy. When Ray stopped checking in, I should have figured something was wrong”

“There’s no logic to it. They vanish, disappear for a few days then Talbot shows up dead.”

“Now I know Hegre has to be responsible for this.”

Mitchell felt Brewster’s eyes flick her way for a few seconds.

“Not that again,” he said.

“Yes. That again. We were getting too close.”

“Sarah, we have no real proof. It’s all...”

Mitchell rounded on him, her hazel eyes flashing with barely concealed anger. Frustration.

“What were you going to say, Joe? It’s all in my head? I’m imagining it?”

“I understand how you feel, Sarah, but we have to go with real proof. We’re FBI. Not freelance cowboys with guns.”

“And a dead agent is proof we’ve made waves. How many more before you believe?”

“Procedure,” Brewster said. “We’re supposed to get local invitations before we walk over their jurisdiction.”

Procedure.

It was word Brewster used a lot, something he pushed every time they came up against a problem.

Hell, Joe, I hope we never get in a tight spot and you won’t move if it goes against procedure, Mitchell thought.

SAC Duncan called her again just under an hour later.

“An email showed up on my computer. It was from Ray Talbot, dated almost two days ago. It had been delayed because of a server glitch...”

“Our system?”

“Unfortunately. Ray’s message got snarled up so it’s only just come through.”

“That leaves us at a disadvantage.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Duncan held back from telling Mitchell that he had delayed informing her until he had contacted Matt Cooper. Talbot had already been dead and Duncan wanted more feet on the ground. And he was still nervous concerning the possible leaks. Hence his call to the unofficial Matt Cooper.

“Is his message going to help, sir?”

“I’m downloading it to your cell, Agent Mitchell. I’ll let you make a decision. Your call on this, Sarah. But keep me in the loop.”

Mitchell sat back. A simple technical delay had held back Talbot’s email and now he was dead.

Had the delay been the reason he hadn’t survived? Unable to have his message picked up quickly. Had it been that simple?

Had Talbot died waiting for his FBI response?

A response that hadn’t come.

The thought sickened her, made her determined to find out what Talbot had been trying to pass along.

Her cell phone pinged. She opened the downloaded message and scanned Talbot’s email.

Info panned out. Have located Hegre base. North of town of Treebone. Am about to check it out. GPS location attached to this message. Talbot.

* * *

“Ray sent a location. He was going to check it out.”

“Just him and Bermann?” Brewster snapped. “Damn stupid move. He should have—”

“Christ, Joe, if you mention procedure again I’ll scream. Ray is dead. Jake is missing. I don’t give a rat’s ass about the rule book right now.”

“I—”

“Just drive, Joe. No talking. Just goddamn well drive.”

She threw her cell phone onto the dash in frustration, then tapped the GPS coordinates into the vehicle’s navigation system.

Her emotions were a mess. The Hegre investigation, missing agents and now Ray Talbot’s death. She knew her FBI training had taught her to maintain objectivity, but how could she not be affected by such things? The day she became that hardened she would hand in her badge and gun and walk away.

She stared out through the windshield, the road curving away in front of the speeding car. Tall trees edged the route on both sides and in the far distance the were hazy outlines of mountains under the blue sky. Mitchell felt the sting of tears, angry at her emotions, but just as sad at the loss of a young life.

They reached Treebone an hour later, Brewster driving through the isolated community.

“We’ll bring the locals in after we check out this location,” Mitchell stated. “See if we can locate Jake without sirens screaming and lights flashing.”

Twelve miles on the northern side of the town, the GPS informed them they were a half mile from their destination. The display on the screen indicated a right turn ahead.

“Keep going,” Mitchell said. They drove by the dirt road. After a quarter mile Mitchell told Brewster to pull off the road.

He pulled the Crown Victoria onto a fire road and nosed it into the timber, undergrowth rattling against the side of the car until Mitchell told him to stop.

She pulled out her Glock pistol, checked it and kept it in her hand as she opened her door.

“Sarah...don’t...”

Mitchell glanced across at her partner. He was staring at her, face taut with anger.

“What the hell, Joe?”

“You know we can’t do this. Not without proper sanction. It’s too risky.”

“Not your damned procedures again. Agent Brewster, I am up to here with you and your rules. Ray is dead. Jake is still missing. He could be dead too by now. Ray left us a message directing us here, offering us a chance to catch up with this Hegre group. And you want to play the protocol rule. Well, the hell with your uptight games. I can’t wait.”

Brewster stiffened. “I can’t stop you, Sarah. You’re my senior agent. But I won’t follow until I have clearance. This is wrong. We need to call it in. Get Duncan’s authority. Call in backup. Too risky otherwise.”

Mitchell stepped out of the car, turning to look back at her partner.

“Those people could be moving out. They may have already. I can’t let that go unchecked.”

“Not until we have Duncan’s say-so.”

“Duncan said it was my call.”

“He didn’t mean this action.”

“Then stay put. I’m not sitting around here.”

Mitchell moved away from the car, into the thick foliage, feeling the close-ranked trees crowd around her.

She knew it was her impulsive nature making her go ahead. But there was the loyalty she had to Ray Talbot. That hot-blooded combination made her push through the forest, back toward the location Talbot had sent before he died.

CHAPTER FOUR

The thick mulch underfoot deadened any sound she might have made. The close branches overhead broke the daylight into ragged patches. Undergrowth tugged at her FBI windbreaker. She held her Glock close to her chest as she traveled. She scoured the way ahead, moving steadily, but with caution. Her eyes probed the tall trees, the tangled undergrowth. This wild country was new to her. Sarah Mitchell would admit to being a city girl. Tall buildings and concrete she knew. The sights and sounds, the smells of urban life were her familiars, not greenery and timber. The forest with its own scents offered unknown challenges. She had been on the move for roughly twenty minutes when she glimpsed her target directly ahead, its dark bulk showing through the trees. She advanced, taking a slower pace until she could see the full outline of the structure.

A four foot stone wall ran around the property. Mitchell moved up to it so she could see the building clearly. An unpaved road led up to the house, and a pair of high-end SUVs were parked at the front entrance. She could see a number of wood-framed windows, but from her position she was unable to see inside. The whole place reeked of decrepitude. Mitchell crouched, trying to formulate her approach and aware that once she cleared the wall she would be pretty well exposed if she made for the house.

Mitchell heard a faint sound then and realized she was not alone. She gripped the Glock tighter, feeling a slick of perspiration on her palm.

She had been sure she had slipped in unseen.

Something told her that it was not Brewster who had made the sound. Her partner would not have come in so close without identifying himself to her.

She flattened against the stone wall, straining her ears to pick up any more sounds. She stayed put for a while, listening, but picked up no more noise. That didn’t comfort here. For all she knew there was someone close by doing exactly the same thing.

Now, she thought, was where things could get really awkward.

What would the FBI manual tell you about things like this? She knew the answer straightaway. Don’t get yourself into tricky situations in the first place. Right now that was of no damn use at all.

Sweat beaded Mitchell’s face. She had gotten herself into this position, so she had no choice other than getting herself out. All because of her impetuous nature. That and being mad with Brewster.

Mitchell turned slowly, searching the shadows. She probed the air with her pistol.

Nothing.

So why was she so worked up?

Because something didn’t feel right.

Mitchell almost gave a yell when cold metal pressed into her neck.

“Give me the gun,” a quiet voice said.

No threat. Just a commanding tone that made Mitchell pause and consider her actions.

“Finger off the trigger and just let go.”

She felt a hand close around the Glock and push the barrel down.

“Let it go, Agent Mitchell.”

FBI rules stated not to give up her issued weapon, but the insistent pressure of the man’s gun made a powerful statement that instantly wiped protocol off the board. Mitchell let go of the Glock and felt it drawn away.

“That wasn’t hard, was it?”

“My boss might not agree.”

“At least you’re still alive to argue the point.”

Mitchell turned to face the newcomer.

He was tall, well over six feet, with black hair, and steady blue eyes that held her defiant gaze. The first thing she saw was his combat blacksuit. The muscled body beneath showed broad shoulders and a lean, well-defined torso. His calm demeanor was unthreatening, but Mitchell sensed that deceptive calm could turn quickly. He wore a shoulder rig, probably for the Beretta 93-R he held in his fist. A gun belt around his waist held a second high-ride holster holding a .44 Magnum Desert Eagle. Whoever he was, Mitchell decided, he had come loaded for bear. There was even a sheathed knife on his left hip.

“Three words,” the man said. “SAC Drake Duncan.”

“Okay. I’ll make a calculated guess you’re not part of Hegre,” Mitchell said.

The faintest of grins etched his lips briefly.

“FBI training is getting sharper.”

Mitchell inclined her head. “Is my badge showing?”

“No, but the way you reacted shows agency training. And that Glock is standard-issue.”

Mitchell stepped back and looked him over a second time. There was a military bearing about him. The way he held himself spoke of self-control and a dedication to what he was doing.

“Special Forces?” she asked.

Mack Bolan shook his head. “Not in the way you’re thinking. I don’t have affiliations to any agencies you can think of. But I’m on your side. My name’s Matt Cooper.”

“Matt Cooper? SAC Duncan mentioned your involvement in the smallpox investigation.”

“That’s why I’m here. Duncan asked me to run background interference because he has concerns about your safety. He has suspicions there might be a leak in your department.”

“Damn. This isn’t the first time.” Mitchell thrust out a hand. “Special Agent Sarah Mitchell.”

Bolan took her hand. As slim as it was against his own, he felt the firm grip.

Her handshake gave Bolan the opportunity to take a closer look at the woman. He noted she was tall, and had an athletic build. The eyes that studied him were bright, a shade of green and amber that instantly drew attention to her face, and alert. They were set in a face that could only be described as beautiful. She wore her dark hair cut chin-length. There was a determined air about her that told Bolan she was not a person likely to be intimidated. He gauged her age to be early thirties, and the way she had handled herself told him she was far from being a novice.

“Nice to meet you Agent Mitchell.” He handed her Glock back. “I suggest we get out of here so we can discuss things in more secure surroundings.”

They retreated, drawing away from the wall. Bolan led the way, Mitchell keeping up with his ground-eating stride.

“So how did you get here?” she asked. “Not by taxi seeing the way you’re dressed.”

“A private fast flight and rented wheels.”

He offered no more of an explanation and Mitchell didn’t query. This man plainly had good backup whoever he was.

Bolan guided her into the tree line to where his hired SUV was concealed in the thicket. She looked over the vehicle and the camouflage Bolan had constructed.

“And you?” Bolan asked as they settled inside the vehicle.

“My partner brought me as close as was safe, then we parted company. Right now I have no idea where he is. For all I know he’s somewhere putting his case to Duncan.”

“Is that the way the FBI is running surveillance now?”

“Agent Brewster doesn’t approve of my methods. Now I like him, but the guy is so anally retentive he lives and breathes the FBI manual. After a time it became a pain in the ass. SAC Duncan set us on the tracking of this group we believe is part of Hegre. We got his far but Brewster refused to carry out a close visual on them. Said he needed to get permission from Duncan before we did anything. We got to arguing in the car. I climbed out and told him to go get his permission and walked off into the forest.”

“He didn’t come after you? That doesn’t seem like the best behavior for a partner.”

There was a trace of suspicion in Bolan’s voice that Mitchell failed to pick up.

“I guess I can be difficult to work alongside, Cooper. Duncan is always telling me to cool it.” She waved her hand in a frustrated gesture. “What the hell, I’m supposed to be going after the bad guys, not checking the FBI workbook every five minutes.”

“So what brought you here?” Bolan asked.

“Two missing agents who were part of my team. Then the news that one of them, Ray Talbot, had turned up dead. And Duncan calling me with the news that a delayed email from Talbot had a location. This location.”

“Right now we backtrack to your vehicle. Go talk to your partner. Assess how things stand before we take any action. Agreed? Let’s add your partner to the mix. It gives us one more body.”

Mitchell hesitated but reluctantly nodded.

They retreated, Mitchell giving him directions to the Crown Victoria. Reaching it, they found the vehicle empty. There was no sign of Mitchell’s partner.

Bolan’s intuition was warning him of something not quite right in the situation. This whole setup with Mitchell and her reluctant partner did not gel. He decided to play along until he could work out just what was going on.

CHAPTER FIVE

“This whole thing was based on small leads,” Mitchell said. “Enough to have us make a move. Our analysts have been working their way through names and contacts that have any link to Hegre. Duncan gave me a small team to follow up any leads we got. Hegre is smart. They cover their tracks well, and use local assets to do their dirty work so they can stay out of the spotlight. We got lucky and picked up a couple of very thin leads and started to track the links. One of the cell phones we picked up from the smallpox episode had a list of numbers on it. There were tracked calls to this location. Our people have been watching those numbers, and one of them recently showed activity. We pulled a message that gave a location and it showed up as the being a remote address. The one we just left. Confirmation came when the same location was provided by Ray. I hadn’t had contact for a couple of days. That wasn’t like Ray. The guy always kept in contact.”

“So you decided there was a link.”

Mitchell nodded. “Duncan said that Ray had been found dead near the town of Treebone. Brewster and I had been on the lookout for him. That delayed email Ray sent had the GPS location for this place. Brewster figured it was tenuous at best but as I am higher up the pay grade he went along until I decided to go take a closer look. That was when he dug in his heels and started to quote protocols. Duncan gave me free rein, but Brewster wanted a directive. Now we have another missing agent.”

“You wanted to find out if your missing guy was around?”

“I couldn’t waste time. Ray was dead. Jake Bermann could be in danger. Waiting wasn’t an option.”

“I can’t fault that, Agent Mitchell.”

“Look, Cooper, I don’t have time to debate this. If Brewster has gone to call in the troops we could be waiting for a couple of hours.” She hesitated. “How long does it take to kill someone? For all I know Bermann could already be dead, but I’m damned if I can just wait around.” She took a breath to calm herself. “What I can’t figure is where Brewster is. The man is no Eagle Scout. Not the type to go wandering around in the woods.”

Bolan understood her reasoning. He could accept rules of engagement. But he could also see it from Mitchell’s viewpoint. If her teammate, Bermann, was in enemy hands his life expectancy could be counted in hours...maybe minutes. As she had also said the FBI agent might already be dead. It was an unenviable position to be in, and Bolan could sympathize with her predicament.

“What were you planning before I showed up?” he asked. “You looked about ready to go storming in on your own without any intel about how many you might be up against.”

“I was hoping my partner might join me...oh hell...I know I didn’t think it through. But I can’t simply do nothing. And now Brewster is missing.”

The haunted expression in her eyes made Bolan aware of the depth of her feeling. Sarah Mitchell was impulsive, but caring. Her need to locate one of her own had overridden her FBI protocols.

“We’ll do this,” he said, “but you follow my lead. No questions. Okay?”

Mitchell nodded.

“Where the hell is Brewster?” she asked again.

Bolan had been asking himself that question. There was still that faint but nagging suspicion tugging at him. The more he thought about it the stronger his suspicion became. Until he had proof one way or the other he would not voice his thoughts to Mitchell.

“We need to move back to the house. Check it out before we decide what to do.”

Mitchell nodded again, said, “It’s time I called in and found out what’s happening.” She searched in her jacket for her cell phone. “Damn, I left my cell in the car. I argued with Brewster and tossed it on the dash before I headed out. Losing my cool again...”

She got in the car and leaned forward to grab her cell phone, but it was not there.

“Let me do that,” Bolan said. “My cell is on a higher security setting than yours anyway.”

“You think mine could be compromised?”

“Think about it. If it’s missing, who has it?”

Bolan took out his cell phone and called Stony Man, getting Aaron Kurtzman on the line.

“What can I do for you, big guy?”

“I need you to contact FBI SAC Drake Duncan. Ask him if he’s had a call from Agent Brewster on Agent Sarah Mitchell’s team asking for help.”

“Something you’re not happy about?”

“You could say that. I just need clarification.”

“I’ll call back ASAP. Anything else?”

“Any more intel on Hegre?”

“We’re making some headway.”

“Keep me posted.”

“I’ll let you know what Duncan says.”

Mitchell was watching Bolan intently. “Well?”

Bolan lowered the cell phone. “My contact will get back to me when he has something.”

“So what do we do in the meantime?”

“What we were going to do. Only now we watch our backs.”

Mitchell leaned back in her seat, slowly shaking her head. The thoughts inside her head translated to the expression on her face. A particular thought had pushed its way to the surface.

“My God, you think Brewster has sold out. Right? Damn it, Cooper, you do.”

“Let’s say I have a doubt about him. A partner bugging out and allowing his teammate to go in alone. I may be wrong, and if I am I’ll be the first to say sorry. We let my people make contact. And we handle things my way.”

“Brewster? He’s sold out.”

“I only have a vague feeling at the moment. That’s why I wanted to check it out. I could just as easily be wrong, so we hold our judgment until confirmation one way or the other. Let’s say I have a suspicious nature. Reserve judgment until we have proof positive one way or the other.”

Bolan walked a few steps and waited for Mitchell to join him.

“Cooper, I hope you’re wrong,” she said.

“So do I.”

They retraced their way back to where Bolan had come up on Mitchell. A couple of minutes in and Bolan felt his cell vibrate in his pocket. He took it out and answered the call.

“Striker, Duncan has not had a call from Agent Brewster,” Kurtzman said. “He’s not a happy camper. What’s going on out there?”

“Nothing good. But at least the picture’s clearer. Thanks for the intel.”

Bolan cut the call. He felt Mitchell’s eyes on him.

“Brewster didn’t call Duncan.”

“Then you could be right about him,” Mitchell said. “Looks like he had me fooled. Had us all fooled.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Agent Mitchell.”

“Hey, if he didn’t call it in, what the hell has he been doing? Maybe he got taken himself. Have you thought about that, Cooper?”

“It crossed my mind. I won’t dismiss it as a possibility.”

Mitchell had the same hope. It didn’t quite add up though. The more she recalled her last conversation with Brewster she had to admit his attitude had been evasive. She hadn’t caught on because of her own eagerness to move on the location.

Bolan’s keen instinct for situations had him checking their position as they walked. And that instinct alerted him to a shadow of movement to their right, within the overhanging bushes by the tree line.

They weren’t alone.

The subdued gleam of metal reflecting light brought the Executioner full circle. The people out there were not showing themselves as being friendly. Bolan and Mitchell were being stalked.

A sudden acceleration in movement confirmed that notion. The figures were closing the circle, shortening the distance between them.

Not friends by any means.

Enemies.

“Down, Mitchell. Now,” he snapped, reaching out to give her a none-to-gentle push that took her off balance and to the ground. Bolan followed, sliding his Beretta 93-R from leather as he dropped, swiveling it to line up on the shooter who had emerged from the trees. Bolan heard the crackle of autofire, felt the hiss of slugs passing over his falling body. His finger stroked the 93-R’s trigger and the Beretta fired a triburst. Bolan had gone for the chest, but his fast release, as he dropped to the ground, was off target.

The 9 mm slugs struck the shooter in the upper left shoulder, creating a significant wound as they hit bone, shattering it as they flattened and tearing at muscle and flesh. The guy stumbled, crying out in pain as his shoulder was mangled severely, losing a flap of torn flesh and spouting blood. He lost all interest in the battle as he went to his knees, letting go of his submachine gun, his attention focusing on the pain that engulfed him. Incapacitated, he was an open target for Bolan to make his follow-up shot. The soldier drilled a 3-round burst into the guy’s head. This time Bolan’s aim was on target. The dead man flopped over onto his back, his skull split and bloody.

Mitchell’s tumble occupied her for the seconds it took her to hit the ground. She managed a clumsy recovery, her right hand automatically snatching at her holstered Glock, dragging it free. Her training kicked in. She threw out her left hand to take her weight as she pulled herself to one knee and focused on the area beyond where Cooper had been firing. She caught a fleeting glimpse of the first shooter falling and saw movement beyond that.

Two more gunners concentrated on their position. The closer man was hauling his weapon into the firing position.

She raised the Glock, two-fisted, and brought the muzzle on line, her finger easing the trigger back. She felt the reassuring kick as the pistol fired, repeating the gesture to launch a second slug. Both slugs hit center-mass, and the would-be shooter fell back, slamming to the ground. The moment she triggered the pair of shots, Mitchell pulled her Glock round to the second man, locked on him and fired another double tap.

Bolan had already resighted his 93-R and fired simultaneously. His slugs were a fraction behind Mitchell’s and hit within a half-inch of hers. Struck by the lethal combination of 9 mm and .40-caliber slugs, the guy went down fast and hard.

“You hurt?” Bolan asked.

“Only my pride,” Mitchell said. “Cooper, you picked up on those guys fast.”

“I have a suspicious nature.”

They fell into a team position, each checking opposite directions, tracking their weapons across the area. As they studied the area, they watched for further movement, easing into the cover provided by the trees.

“I hate to even think this,” Mitchell said, “but Brewster could have been directing those shooters.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” he said, and pulled her deeper into the foliage.

They were heading directly for the Hegre stronghold.