“What job’s that?”
“Helping me get inside Downing’s operation here.”
“But I don’t even know where that is,” Neely protested.
“No, but you can contact him and set up a meet,” Bolan said. “That’s a step closer than I am right now.”
“Okay, so you get a step closer. Then what?”
“Leave that to me,” Bolan replied, boring through Neely with ice-blue eyes.
“What, are you some kind of one-man army?” Neely asked in a joking tone.
Bolan’s smile lacked warmth, and with good reason. “Maybe Downing thinks he’s invincible and maybe he thinks he’s out of reach from the American government. But he’s not out of my reach. Let’s leave it there.”
“Okay, I’ll set up the meet, but then I want out.”
“Fine. So let’s get back to this deal with your wife and daughter. You’ve told me the truth?”
“Nothing but, Cooper. On my mother’s grave. You have to believe me.”
“Maybe I do,” Bolan said. “When did you last see Downing?”
“Last evening,” he said without hesitation.
That seemed to match up with what Price had told him, so Bolan decided for the moment Neely was shooting straight. He still didn’t completely trust the guy, but he could see how it might have gone down like this. The thing he had to do now was get to Downing before anything else happened. Simultaneously, he’d have to contact Stony Man to see if they could arrange safe passage out of the country for Neely and his family.
Bolan decided to play his wild card.
“You know a scientist by the name of Peter Hagen?”
Neely appeared to search his memory, nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think so. If I remember right, he was some kind of big-wig with the special projects division at the Agency. In fact, now that you mention it, I think he worked under Downing’s tenure.”
“That’s him,” Bolan said. “You know of any reason why Downing would want him dead?”
“Not off hand, but I’m sure it has something to do with these big plans he keeps bragging about.”
“What big plans?”
“I didn’t get details. Downing doesn’t like to give out details. He’s the kind to hold on to what little pathetic power he has. All I know is what I’ve told you. Sounds like he has something up his sleeve, something he plans to use to spearhead his operations against the terrorists.”
“You don’t think he’ll stop with the NCF.” It wasn’t a question.
Neely produced something between a laugh and a snort. “Hell no! Downing’s just getting started, my friend. Whatever he’s planning, you can be sure it’ll be big and spectacular.”
Okay, so Downing obviously felt he had what he needed to make a move, which meant he was probably going to act soon. He’d eliminated Hagen—who in all likelihood had produced the technical goods Downing needed—and he thought he probably had Neely under control. Soon, very soon, he’d receive the word that his killing team in the States was no more. That would most likely put him in a rage, and he’d lean on this Alek Stezhnya to act. When Downing broke out whatever he thought was big and spectacular, the Executioner would have something big and spectacular of his own waiting. And he’d shove it right down the enemy’s throat.
CHAPTER SIX
Mack Bolan peered through the rangefinder scope mounted to his Heckler & Koch PSG-1 sniper rifle.
Neely had agreed to contact Downing with the excuse he’d changed his mind and was willing to cooperate. Bolan counseled Neely to sweeten the pot by relating he had new information on the mysterious interloper who’d taken down Stezhnya’s crew in Atlanta. Downing had seemed hesitant at first, but finally agreed to meet Neely at the same location later that afternoon. The timing was perfect, as Bolan had used the delay to get Neely’s family safely out of the country, just as he promised.
“You kept your word, Cooper,” Neely had told him. “I owe you, so now I’m going to keep mine.”
Bolan could appreciate Neely’s sense of duty, and he could also understand why this would have torn the emotional seams of even the strongest men. The soldier had learned the hard way it was suicide to build such ties in his line of work. Bolan had dared to love too much in the past, which caused people to suffer and die. From the very beginning he’d lost many good people, allies and friends alike. He’d learned to distance himself over time. Solitude was a soldier’s lot, except when it came to other soldiers who had taken a similar oath.
From his vantage point on the rooftop across the street, Bolan observed a Jeepney cab, this one standard yellow, stop at the curb. Two men climbed out and Bolan checked his watch. Right on time. The Executioner didn’t recognize the first man to exit, a dark-haired muscular type, but there was no mistaking the tall, distinguished frame of the man who followed: Garrett Downing.
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