'Of course it is. I just don't want to see the man do something that'll burn all the bridges behind him.'
'Like taking on Lee Farnsworth?'
'Farnsworth and his organization. Interagency feuds are strictly verboten. Farnsworth should never have betrayed Able Team to The Dragon, but if Striker executes Farnsworth or any of his people over this, all of those bridges will be gone and Striker himself will be ordered terminated. It's a tough game and those are the rules.'
'Maybe Farnsworth and his unit aren't involved,' said April. 'We don't have proof. Only the timing, and that could be coincidental.'
'We do have Izmir and Kemal,' added Kurtzman. 'I'd give anything to have those creeps be the source of this trouble.'
'It's happening so fast,' noted April. 'First, the sabotage, then Konzaki and Able Team and now Farnsworth. It could be that there isn't a thread connecting it together.'
Kurtzman got up and walked over to a window. He stood looking out at the night. His right hand rested on the butt of the holstered pistol April had brought him.
'I'm just glad we're carrying our own side arms tonight,' he growled. 'It's going to be a night for everyone to cover his own ass. I can feel it out there. I just hope to God Striker is aware of what he's up against. Washington is a goddamn snake pit. The only things Bolan can trust tonight are the guns he's carrying.'
'He knows,' said April.
The door opened.
The nurse who had been attending Konzaki stepped in.
April knew right away.
'Konzaki...'
The nurse shook her head.
'I'm sorry. There was nothing we could do. He never regained consciousness.'
Kurtzman remained looking out the window. He did not turn.
'Why?' he said into the night.
Brognola and the president were alone in the Oval Office. The Man himself had mixed the drinks, but the atmosphere was not congenial.
'I assure you, Hal,' said the president, 'I had no idea what Farnsworth was up to. I am purposely not briefed on the details of his operation, just like with Stony Man.'
'I only hope Kurtzman restores our communications in time to alert Able Team to abort their hit on The Dragon,' said Hal. 'Those are good men, sir. We can't afford to lose them.'
'I appreciate what you're saying,' said the Man. 'But I hope you'll pardon me for pointing out that you probably feel right now exactly what Farnsworth felt when a Stony Man operation caused the deaths of several of his men. Those were good men too.'
Hal finished his drink, wishing more than ever for a cigar.
'A damn can of worms,' he acknowledged. 'And I've got a hunch it's all going down right now.'
'Tonight?'
'Yes, sir. The colonel makes a damn good case for thinking there could be an attack on the Farm tonight.'
'Farnsworth? You can't be serious.'
'We don't know for certain who's behind it. Colonel Phoenix is working that angle. And our intel informed us that Armenians could be involved, with or without the CFB. Or there could be factors we don't even know about yet.'
'Armenians?' said the president. 'No, don't tell me. If my political opponents ever got hold of this kind of thing, I'd be roasted alive. What about Colonel Phoenix? The man concerns me.'
'In what way, sir?'
'He's the only guy who ever told me to go to hell in this office,' said the president with a chuckle, 'but I don't mind that. In fact, I like him for it. I know of his work during the Vietnam War and his own Mafia campaigns, and I have a sketchy idea of what he's accomplished for Stony Man.
'His ideas of right and wrong have thus far happily coincided with our ideas of right and wrong.'
'Bolan will not move against Farnsworth or the CFB unless he has positive proof,' Hal assured the president. 'The only indication we have of any possible involvement by Farnsworth in our trouble at Stony Man is the timing of it and his campaign tonight to put us out of business.''
'But let us imagine the worst,' suggested the president. 'Suppose Colonel Phoenix does find out that Farnsworth and his unit are involved. I can't have him declaring war on Farnsworth and his unit and wiping them out. Colonel Phoenix has always gone by 'an eye for an eye,' and won't that be the way he'll see it if he does find proof of wrongdoing by Farnsworth?'
'I, uh, suppose it could be,' hedged Hal. 'But one thing you can count on with Mack Bolan is the totally unexpected.'
'That's what I'm afraid of,' the Man replied. 'We're expecting the colonel to be a team man tonight. But when he stomped out of here a while ago, he did not look like someone about to play by the rules.'
'The guy's a survivor,' said Hal. 'Rules only work sometimes.'
'He'd better be a survivor if he breaks my rules,' growled the president. 'I do not want the man liquidating other American agents, no matter what the circumstances.'
'That's putting the guy in one hell of a squeeze, isn't it, sir?'
'He's not the only one. I like and admire the guy, but I won't have any choice, Hal, if push comes to shove. Colonel Phoenix will be liquidated before he can make waves that will endanger our national security and this administration. I suggest you make contact with him to apprise him of this fact.'
'He well knows the chances he's taking, sir,' said Hal. 'The personal consequences of his actions have
8
Bolan had already clashed with Armenian terrorist groups once before in his new war.
They wage an ongoing war of their own against the modern Turkish government for the twenty-year holocaust at the turn of the century during which millions of Armenians had been reportedly slaughtered by the Turks.
Denounced by all international Armenian communities, the terrorists had been gunning down diplomats and blowing up Turkish businesses and political concerns for decades. One week earlier a bomb had exploded at a Turkish airline counter at Orly Airport in Paris, killing six people and maiming a dozen other tourists. Only two of the victims were Turks. The Justice Commandos of Armenian Genocide had bragged of responsibility for the slaughter.
Lately, more and more of this terrorist activity had taken place on American soil.
Now came Kemal and Izmir.
The address was a secondhand furniture store on the fringe of the ghetto, not far from the White House.
The store was on a side street, the entrance three steps below sidewalk level, sandwiched in at mid-block by a squat line of dark business fronts.
At the far end of the block, a single streetlamp cast a dull glow that extended only halfway down the street.
Bolan stood in deep shadow up the street from the store. He surveyed the neighborhood, attuning his combat senses to this probe.
The night was warm, the city sounds muted by the breeze that now carried the smell of rain with it.
The street was lined with parked vehicles.
