Zero Option. Don Pendleton

he stepped outside again, he took a slow look around the immediate area. He almost missed the security camera set on a corner of one of the adjacent buildings. Bolan took a walk across the concrete apron until he was standing under the camera. Turning to look back, he saw that as it panned from left to right and back again it would scan the frontage of Jess Buchanan’s building.

      Bolan made his way back to the security hut.

      “Earl, when the cop was here, did he ask about the security camera that overlooks Jess’s building?”

      Earl thought for a moment, then shook his head.

      “Matter of fact he didn’t. Like I told you before, he was nothing but a damned rookie. To be honest, Mr. Belasko, I didn’t give it much thought myself. This whole thing got me so I’m forgetting things myself. I’m getting too old for this kind of work. They should have a younger man here, but they won’t pay the money.”

      Earl beckoned for Bolan to step inside. At the far end of the hut was a monitoring setup that contained a master and four smaller TV screens. They showed black-and-white images from the cameras located along the charter strip. To one side were four VCR machines in a stacked bank, each machine numbered to correspond with one of the cameras. Bolan studied the setup until he located the camera he had seen near Jess Buchanan’s building. He watched the camera pan slowly back and forth. At one point it covered the frontage of the Buchanan outfit.

      “Earl, tell me you still have the tape that was in the machine when Jack and Jess were attacked.”

      The security man cleared his throat.

      “Should have if the night man hasn’t reused it,” he said lamely. “I’m going to feel bad if it’s been wiped.”

      He moved to a shelving unit fastened to the wall and began to sort through the cassettes stacked there. Bolan could hear him muttering to himself, his guilt over his lack of foresight obviously bothering him. In his nervous state he fumbled with the tapes, knocking a couple onto the floor.

      “Earl, take it easy,” Bolan said.

      Earl took a deep breath, then started to look again. He gave a grunt of excitement when he finally found what he was looking for. He turned back to Bolan, holding up a cassette.

      “I got it.”

      He crossed to the monitoring desk and sat. There was a fifth VCR unit under the large monitor. Earl slid the tape in and punched the play button. When the image came on-screen there were date and time indicators in the bottom right of the screen.

      “Give me a minute,” Earl said, pushing the fast-forward key. The on-screen image sped by, Earl watching closely. He stopped the tape and pointed a finger at the monitor. “There’s Jack arriving.”

      Bolan watched as Grimaldi’s lean figure walked across to the entrance of the Buchanan hangar. He pushed open the door and went inside.

      “Wasn’t much else happening that afternoon,” Earl said. He leaned across the desk and pushed the fast-forward key, sending the on-screen image into overdrive. He stopped it when a light-colored car rolled to a stop outside the hangar. “Not long after Jack arrived,” he said. “Come to think of it, I don’t recall seeing that car come in. Wait, I remember, ’bout that time I went across to the admin building. I got a call from one of the payroll clerks. They messed up my paycheck the previous week, and he wanted to talk to me about it. I locked the hut and went over. Guess I would have been away maybe twenty minutes is all.”

      Bolan was watching the on-screen activity. Five men emerged from the car. They were all dressed alike in dark suits and moving like a squad of soldiers.

      Score one for Jack’s assessment, Bolan thought. Somewhere along the line these men had received military training. There was no mistaking the precise, controlled movements, the way they carried themselves as they walked to the entrance door, opened it and went inside.

      “Damn,” Earl muttered. “If I hadn’t been called across to the admin, I might have seen these people come in.”

      “And you might have ended up like Jack. Or worse,” Bolan reminded him. “Move it on.”

      Earl sped up the tape until the moment the men emerged from the building. One of them crossed directly to the parked car and opened the rear door. Bolan heard Earl let go a gasp of dismay when he recognized Jess Buchanan being led out to the car. She appeared dazed, having to be supported between two of the men. She was maneuvered inside, the rest of the group quickly following. The last man drew Bolan’s close attention as he took his time to look around before climbing into the car…

      White-blond hair, cut short. Taut features, one hand reaching up to touch the left cheek where a dark bruise was visible, cold eyes staring straight ahead. A dangerous man, angry at being resisted, liable to react violently.

      Bolan studied the face, stored it away for future reference. Here was a man the Executioner wouldn’t forget, and he also knew that sooner or later he was going to come face-to-face with him.

      “Earl, can we see the license plate?”

      Earl paused the tape, then used the remote to edge it forward, the car advancing into full frame, allowing them to study the rear end.

      “I need to run down that number to see if I can locate that car.”

      “I can tell you where it comes from,” Earl said. “Local rental agency. I recognize the number sequence. They have special plates for rental cars. Makes them easy to trace if they get stolen. We get a lot of tourists driving in for flights.”

      Earl wrote on a sheet of paper and handed it to Bolan. He had recorded the license number and also the location of the rental agency.

      “Thanks for this,” Bolan said. “Earl, if I don’t get to call back, I appreciate what you’ve done.”

      “Wish it could have been more. I’ll drop by the hospital some time. Have a few minutes with Jack.”

      Bolan stepped outside. There was a cabstand a few yards along the road. Behind him he heard the security hut door open.

      “Mr. Belsako, you going to bring Miss Jess home?”

      “I’ll give it my best shot.”

      Bolan picked up a cab and had it take him back to town and his hotel. As he sank back in the seat, he thought.

      It had been a long time since Bolan had dealt with something on such a personal level. Whatever the reasoning behind Jess Buchanan’s abduction, enough in itself, Jack Grimaldi was also involved. Badly hurt and unable to find out what had happened to Jess, Grimaldi was about to learn the meaning of true friendship. As far as Bolan was concerned, he would step in and deal with the matter on Grimaldi’s behalf. It would have been no different if the roles had been reversed. Bolan and Grimaldi went back a long way. Perhaps too far. But there were no questions that needed to be asked once the chips fell.

      BACK IN HIS ROOM Bolan took time to freshen up before he put in a call to Stony Man farm. This time he spoke to Hal Brognola.

      “You find anything useful?” the big Fed asked. There was a distinct weariness in Brognola’s tone. Bolan picked up on it the moment he heard his friend’s voice.

      “There something wrong? You sound like you need a break.”

      “Some hopes,” Brognola answered. “I’ve got Phoenix somewhere in the Middle East. Able chasing rebels in Central America. And you ready to go ballistic in Nassau. And there I’m thinking it might be a good weekend to go fishing.”

      Bolan smiled at that. “Hal, you’d go crazy trying to land a salmon.”

      “Yeah? I’d gamble a few gray cells just to give it a damned try.”

      “Anything come through on the information I gave to Barbara?”

      “I was afraid you were going to ask that.”

      “Complications?”

      “We’ve