Tower of Terror

out of the Ford. 'In fact, things might be out of control. Over.'

The dark-haired young woman in the skirt-suit hammered at Lyons with a high-heeled shoe. She broke away from Lyons and Gadgets and ran for the open door to the alley.

Blancanales grabbed the rolling door's chain, pulled the door down. Her escape blocked, she stopped, looked at her captors, her eyes moving like a trapped animal's. She sprinted in another direction. Lyons ran after her.

He chased her into a corner. As he approached, the woman — standing about five foot two without her shoes — took a kung-fu stance and clenched her fists, waiting for him. Lyons went into the shotokan karate sparring stance, but kept his hands at his sides. When he was very close to her, he twitched one shoulder as a feint.

She jumped straight up, shot a side kick at his throat.

Lyons caught her ankle with one hand and dragged her in one sweeping movement across the concrete to the other prisoners. She shrieked, clawed at him, cursed in her language. Lyons stepped on her throat and passed two of the plastic handcuffs to Blancanales.

'Hands and feet. Cinch her up tight. This one is hardcore.'

'You got it,' Blancanales told Lyons, 'I haven't seen one like her for ten years.'

As Blancanales pulled the plastic loops tight around her ankles and wrists, he spoke to the young woman in her language. She didn't answer. Gadgets came over, spoke also. She looked from man to man, and finally said, 'Your Vietnamese is very poor. I would rather speak English.'

'Vietnamese?' Lyons was incredulous. Despite his aching skull, the strong-jawed man stared quietly at the girl. 'How'd you people get involved in this?'

'That's what I asked her,' Blancanales told him.

'Who are you?' Lyons demanded.

'I am Le Van Thanh, of the People's Army of Vietnam.'

The three men stared at her.

'You do not believe me?' She spoke textbook English, very correctly, as if in a language class.

'Long way from home, aren't you?' Lyons queried.

'Other representatives of my government attempted to speak to your officials, and they, too, were not believed. Your government displayed an overwhelming hostility, despite our good intentions. May I sit up, please?'

Blancanales pulled her up so that she could lean back against the Ford. She laid her head back against the door, exhausted. In her tailored, conservative blue skirt-suit, she looked like a young bank executive.

'If you had such good intentions,' Lyons asked, 'how come you put a pistol up against my head? How come you kidnapped me?'

'I was not responsible for that blunder!' Le Van Thanh looked at the Oriental with the broken jaw. 'My superior has a very different attitude toward Americans than I do. He thought it better to capture you, interrogate you, before we discussed our mutual concerns.'

'What mutual concerns?' Lyons demanded.

Blancanales interrupted. 'Wait. How did you know who this officer is...' he indicated Lyons '...and where he would be?'

'We have contacts with the Fuerzas— you call them the FALN. Our contacts told us there would be a conference between the local commander of their organization and a federal officer. They told us it would be possible for our group also to speak with that officer. But it was imperative that the Fuerzacommander not know of our group's involvement. We meant to wait for your officer's return to this location, then speak with him. However, the meeting did not occur exactly as anticipated. My superior misjudged the situation. He decided to take one of the secondary officers — you,' she pointed to Lyons. 'My superior meant to interrogate you, then offer information concerning our mutual problem if you federal officers would cooperate. We meant you no harm. We carried a special electronic stun device so as to...'

'A Taser!' Gadgets reached under the Ford's seat, brought out the plastic pistol. 'Fifty thousand volts,' he said admiringly. 'Quite a shock, knocks most people down.'

'I thought you'd shot me in the head,' Lyons told the woman. 'I thought I was dying.'

'That would have defeated our purpose. We wanted cooperation, not death.'

'What is this cooperation you want?' Blancanales asked.

'First, I will tell you the information. It is this. An individual of Puerto Rican ancestry approached our government for aid in his organization's struggle against your government. This individual claimed to represent the FALN. In truth, he did not. Our government explained to that individual that the People's Republic of Vietnam hoped for better relations with the United States of America. Furnishing war material to dissident organizations would not be conducive to normal relations between our nations. Therefore, the request was denied.'

'By war material, you mean C-4 explosives and M-16 rifles?' Lyons asked.

'Yes, explosives and weapons.'

'But you say you didn't give it to him? Then where did they get the material?'

'Our government did not supply the explosives and weapons. But he may indeed have purchased the material in our country. You know our land is in turmoil. War creates many vices. And our nation has had many generations of war. He offered our government gold. When we refused, perhaps he found those who did not hesitate.'

'And that's the information?' Lyons asked.

'Why did you want to tell us about this?' Blancanales sighed. 'Why not the people in Washington, D.C.?'

'We did. I told you they did not believe us. Also, they would not consider cooperation with our group.'

'Thank you for the information,' Blancanales sighed. 'Now, explain what 'cooperation' you want from us.'

'It is simply this. The individual and his group have deceived and embarrassed our government. They could seriously impair our nation's future relations with your nation. We assume you will eventually capture these...terrorists. You will?'

'Pretty quick,' Lyons told her.

'We want them exterminated. No investigation. No trials. No public revelations. Could that be arranged?'

The three members of the Able Team glanced at one another. Lyons frowned. 'Do you have more information on the individual who approached your government? And the other terrorists?' he asked.

'Photographs, notes,' she replied.

'Show us.'

'The information is not in the automobile. We have a rented apartment in this city. Would you take me there? I could give...'

'We'll discuss this,' Blancanales interrupted. He glanced at Lyons and Gadgets. 'Conference time.'

They went to a far corner of the garage. Blancanales covered the young woman where she sat against the car.

'What do you two think?' Lyons asked them. 'You both know Vietnamese people better than I do.'

'That woman is one of the smartest people I ever ran up against,' Gadgets told them. 'And I know, Iknow, it isn't the way she says.'

'It's lies inside of lies,' Blancanales concurred. 'But you'd better believe they want those people dead. Exterminated.'

'We need the information she's talking about,' Lyons told them. 'I want the photos. I want the notes. Even when we do get the psychos inside the Tower, that won't mean we've got their leaders.'

'Right,' Blancanales said. 'I've got a folder full of punks and crazies, but none among them is the mastermind.'

Inside the satchel slung over Gadgets' shoulder, a hand-radio buzzed. 'Hardman Three here,' he responded.

'Mr. Taxi relaying a message.' All of them could hear the voice coming from the hand-radio. 'There's a man named Brognola screaming for you all. He says to get back to the Tower, right now.