Chain Reaction. Don Pendleton

and refused to think any differently; Bolan could sympathize with her—Brewster had turned against everything the FBI stood for, had betrayed his fellow agents by accepting money from the very criminal organization the Bureau was fighting.

      Duncan called, informing Bolan he was already inbound from Washington and would attend the scene ASAP. An FBI regional mobile-command center had shown up, establishing a base for the FBI teams working the scene, and once that was in motion Bolan and Mitchell stood down. She designated one of the agents to handle things while she took a break. Despite her professional attitude, Bolan could see she was under some stress though she was attempting to conceal the fact. He had one of the agents drive him to his vehicle and recover Mitchell’s. They returned them to the crime scene. The area was a hive of activity as the Bureau teams processed the house and surrounding grounds. The FBI worked with practiced efficiency, the next couple of hours full of activity.

      Bolan kept an eye on Mitchell. She was back directing operations, but a couple of times he noticed her standing alone and looking a little lost. The violent action of their encounter was most likely the worst incident of her Bureau career. High-intensity shooting matches were not an everyday occurrence in the FBI.

      Bolan had a quiet word with one of the agents. The man saw Bolan’s point and told him he would step in until Duncan showed up. The Executioner spoke to Mitchell. At first she refused to leave the site, but eventually she gave in to his persuasion. He drove them back along the highway to Treebone. Mitchell sat quietly beside him, gazing out the window and not saying much. Bolan parked up at a local diner, overrode her protests and made her go inside for a coffee and some downtime. She made a half-hearted objection but that didn’t last long once she smelled the aroma of coffee.

      Bolan had removed his tactical gear, stowing it in the rear of the SUV, pulling his leather jacket on over his black clothing and Mitchell had produced a plain wind breaker from her SUV so they at least looked like an ordinary couple in need of a break.

      Bolan ordered coffee for them as they settled in an empty booth. He sat across from Mitchell and watched as she buried her head in the mug, savoring the hot brew. As she set the mug on the table and leaned back, Bolan could see the tension slip away. She glanced up at him, a tired smile on her lips.

      “Yeah, okay, that coffee was just what I needed.”

      Bolan nodded. “Always take the doc’s advice.”

      “So now you’re a doctor. Anything else I need to know about you, Cooper?”

      “All in good time,” Bolan said.

      Mitchell ran a finger across the rim of her coffee cup, knowing what she wanted to say, finding it hard to say. She had always followed Bureau lines, stayed within the parameters the FBI hammered into its agents. But right now she had to step beyond them because there was something going on that transcended normal policy. The recent events had made her lose some degree of faith in her profession. She admitted she was probably overreacting, but she was unable to push aside what Brewster had done. Bad enough he had worked against the FBI. The deaths of two of her team, men she had worked with and had trusted, had compounded that betrayal. It had made her see the world from a different angle.

      Apart from SAC Duncan, the only man she could trust right now was Cooper.

      Matt Cooper had already saved her life, kept her alive and had talked a lot of sense.

      “This can’t end here, Cooper. Hegre is still operating. Still out of our reach. And I’m not so sure, right now, that the Bureau is capable of doing anything about that.”

      “The FBI makes its decisions based on the rules. I don’t. I work my side of the street by acting on intel, sometimes hunches. Duncan believes I break every rule that exists. He’s probably correct, but my approach gets the results I need.”

      “Cooper, you’re just a Lone Ranger at heart.”

      “I forgot my mask today. Hey, I need to make a call,” Bolan said. “If there’s something to uncover, we’ll find it.”

      “Should I close my eyes and look the other way? Hands my over ears while I sing la-la-la?”

      “Only if you want some funny looks. Order some more coffee. Maybe something to eat. I’ll be back.”

      Bolan slid out of the booth and walked to the door, retrieving his cell phone from his pocket. Mitchell watched him go, a thin smile on her lips. She caught the server’s eye and beckoned to her.

      “Two more coffees. What’s the best thing on the menu?”

      “Honey, the boss would tell you everything on the menu is the best. Take my advice and stick to steak, eggs and hash browns. Those he can cook.”

      “For two,” Mitchell said. “And thanks for the advice.”

      * * *

      BOLAN HAD KURTZMAN on his cell phone.

      “Any results, Bear? You guys worked your magic yet?”

      “Akira’s trawling picked up on that Australian angle. There was a recent theft of diamonds from one of the mines in the Northern Territories. One hell of a haul. At a conservative estimate the cops figure the haul to be worth in excess of $80 million in uncut stones. Akira hacked into the police database and found out there was a hijacking on the highway between the mining area and Alice Springs. One of those Aussie road-trains was stopped on the road, the crew gunned down. The doors on one of the containers were blown open. Nothing on the manifest was taken.

      “Then the local police at the mining company homed in on one of the employees taking off unannounced. He must have panicked when the cops started questioning employees. They picked him up on the highway, chased him and the guy lost control. He ended up in the local hospital with two broken legs, smashed ribs and a fractured shoulder. They found a stash of uncut diamonds in his luggage. His pay for the job. It seems he’d been contracted by Hegre to filter off diamonds from a number of batches between being lifted from the mine and weighed up. He was a production foreman and had a gambling and drinking problem. In debt up to his ears. Hegre paid him to arrange the thefts. He hid the cache in a metal toolbox and had it added to the road train cargo. All this came out in the hospital. The guy couldn’t wait to confess once the cops confronted him with the evidence.”

      “How were the diamonds taken out of the country?”

      “The guy came clean on that. Pretty slick operation. The heist team simply drove across country. Two thousand miles plus, to the coast and the diamonds were to be placed on a freighter out of Port Hedland on the Australian West coast.”

      “Any trace on where the cache was heading?”

      “The guy didn’t know that. Or the name of the ship.”

      “Damn.”

      “Don’t give up so easily, Striker. I have more.”

      “You found the ship?”

      “Don’t sound so surprised, my friend. Our young master of the cyber universe ran checks on all the vessels that left Port Hedland in the timeline we had and has come up with the answer you will love.”

      Kurtzman explained how the tracking had been achieved and Bolan chalked one up to Akira Tokaido, the youngest member of Kurtzman’s cyberteam.

      “Only three ships left the port in the timeframe we were looking at. Akira ran in-depth checks on them. Ownership. Destinations. Arrival dates. Two were quickly discounted. The third turned out to be the one we wanted. The Echo Rose, registered in Manila. She’s had more owners than you can shake a stick at. The tramp of all tramp ships. She carries mixed cargoes of every shape and size all round the region. When Akira ran his check on who has her papers currently, he hit a spiderweb of fake titles and shaky companies. All covers for the real owner of the Echo Rose.”

      “Hegre?”

      “Very loose connection, but the buck does stop at the Hegre corporation. Akira logged into the ship’s manifest. The Echo Rose was on a cargo run that would take her up through the Timor Sea,