Chain Reaction. Don Pendleton

      “Good backup?” Mitchell said as Bolan ended the call. “Was that about me?”

      “Do you always eavesdrop?”

      Mitchell smiled. “Only if it matters.”

      “It matters.”

      “Then thanks.”

      “Keep your eyes peeled for a shopping mall,” Bolan said.

      “Why?”

      “If we turn up at the airport dressed this way, someone is going to think it’s a SWAT raid. We need clothes to fit the role of tourists.”

      They rolled into the parking area of a mall twenty minutes later. Mitchell led the way and they hit a couple of stores, using Bolan’s Stony Man issued credit card to buy what they needed. A quick visit to restrooms and they emerged dressed in casual outfits more suited to the roles they were about to play. They would leave the soiled clothing in the SUV. The only item Bolan retained was his leather jacket.

      Bolan had purchased a couple of lightweight carryalls for the change of clothing they had bought. He added a third bag for the weapons they would leave behind. Before they drove away from the mall they placed their weapons in the third bag, wrapped in the clothes they were abandoning. Bolan stowed the bag in the SUV’s trunk, out of sight.

      Minutes before they arrived at the airport Bolan’s cell rang. It was Barbara Price, Stony Man’s mission controller.

      “A king guest room was booked for you at the Seattle Airport Marriott. The reservation was made for Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton. That’s who you are on your new passports. You look like a nice couple.”

      “Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”

      “Your friends interest me,” Mitchell said.

      “Interesting is one way to describe them. Head for the Seattle Airport Marriott hotel. It appears we’re booked in as a married couple. The Hamiltons. Passports should arrive before we fly out tomorrow at 11:00 a.m.”

      “Whoever you friends are they have good taste,” Mitchell said as they reached the hotel.

      She drove the SUV into the parking lot and they made their way inside the hotel.

      Mitchell wandered around the large room, checking the facilities.

      “Is this your usual standard?”

      “No. Sometimes only get a single bed.”

      “Cooper, do you mind if I crash? The day’s catching up on me. You know what I mean?”

      “You go ahead.”

      Mitchell took a fast shower, wrapped herself in a bathrobe and climbed into the bed.

      “Just wake me in time for breakfast,” she murmured.

      * * *

      WHILE BOLAN AND Mitchell slept, a Stony Man courier arrived in Seattle at 6:35 a.m. He handed over the sealed package at the desk of the Marriott, picked up the keys for Bolan’s SUV and drove out of the parking lot. He drove to a small private airport where he transferred to an aircraft for his return flight to Washington, taking with him the carryall containing the ordnance Bolan had left behind.

      * * *

      AT 8:00 A.M. Bolan picked up the package waiting at the hotel reception desk. It held the Stony Man–prepared passports for himself and Mitchell. They looked well used and were stamped with entry and exit visas from a number of countries.

      When he showed the passports to Mitchell, over breakfast, she was impressed.

      “I may keep this,” she said. “It would be very handy if I want to take a quiet trip somewhere.”

      “What would SAC Duncan have to say about that?”

      “That would be telling.” Mitchell regarded him across the table. “And speaking about telling, what about you and the mysterious Lise Delaware? What do you have to tell me about her...?”

       CHAPTER TEN

      As they settled in their seats for the flight to Hong Kong, Mitchell leaned over and said, “I still don’t have the lowdown on Delawar”

      “First time we met she tried to kill me. I screwed up a big deal for Hegre and grazed her arm with a bullet. From what I’ve learned she doesn’t let it go when she’s been bested.”

      “You must have gotten to her, Cooper.”

      “What can I say. And all I know is her name...”

      * * *

      WHEN LISE WAS fourteen years old, she came home from school and found her mother dead in the bathtub. The cold water was tinged pink from the blood that had streamed from her slashed wrists. It was later confirmed that Rose Delaware had also swallowed every pill in the house. It was a final act of desperation, brought on by the severe depression she suffered from. She had struggled with her condition for a number of years, fighting a slow, losing battle. Rose’s ongoing condition had only been relieved by the presence of her daughter, and she fought against it every day. She kept her apartment clean and provided a loving environment for her daughter, Lise.

      Things she kept from her daughter only came to light after her death. The thing that pushed her over the edge was the final chapter in the long-running battle with her husband. He had wanted a divorce. Rose had denied him that, but he continued to fight her and had finally gotten what he wanted by citing her unreasonable attitude and deliberate obstruction when he told her he wanted to remarry. It had cost him a lot of money, but he was wealthy and the financial cost meant nothing to him. The divorce papers were found on the bathroom floor where Rose had dropped them.

      The trauma of finding her dead mother affected Lise badly. She fell into an almost vegetative state and had to be hospitalized. She was given the best care available, a private room and around-the-clock care. Her father chose not to visit her. They had never been close. Work had always been his top priority. It took nearly six months before she began to come out of her shell and respond to attention.

      Three weeks later a man came to the hospital. She vaguely recalled his face. He had visited her mother some years back. Lise remembered how he had been with her mother. He had offered to help, but for some reason her mother had turned him away. She couldn’t understand why. Her mother refused to talk about it. Now on the day he visited her, she sat and stared at him, still cloaked in despair at the loss of her mother. When he came back days later, he brought a woman with him. They spoke with the people in charge and later that same day she was removed from the hospital. There was a large car outside and Lise was placed inside, with the man on one side and the woman the other. They drove for what seemed a long time.

      Lise watched through the car window until fatigue took over and she slept.

      When she awakened, she was dressed in warm pajamas and tucked in a soft bed.

      In the days and weeks that followed, Lise came to know the woman, who was with her most of the days. She brought new clothes. And food. The room she was in was large and bright, filled with good things. The woman—she found out her name was Claire—looked after her. Lise was taken from the room, down the wide staircase and through a door that led outside into a wide, attractive garden.

      The house was where Lise would spend the next few years. In comfort and surrounded by people who cared for her and ensured she lacked for nothing. Not once did she inquire about her father. He was responsible for her mother’s death. He was dead to her.

      The house and grounds were spacious. There was a swimming pool and a wide patio. Claire and Lise spent many hours in the warm sunshine. There were a number of staff in the house who fetched and carried, doing anything Claire requested. Lise did not see the man for a few weeks. When she finally asked where he was, Claire simply told her he was away on business, but he would come to see her when he came back.