Five Rings of Fire

Lyons stopped at the front desk and questioned the desk sergeant.

'Captain Braddock around?'

'It's Chief Braddock now, Carl,' the desk sergeant answered. 'A lot of changes have been made since your days.'

Lyons did a double take when the man behind the desk spoke. 'Len Terney,' Lyons exclaimed, recognizing the face. 'Gone from beat cop to desk jockey.'

Terney smiled. 'A man gets too old to tear shoe leather. It'll happen to you some day.'

The two men shook hands.

'I hear you've been in here a bit,' Terney said. 'Guess I just keep missing you. It's been a long time since we teamed up.'

'Long time,' Lyons agreed. 'Braddock here?'

'I don't think you want to see him. He's in a terrible mood.'

'I'm not revolving my life around old Braddock's moods.'

'Same old Lyons,' Terney said.

'I've gotta see him, Len. It's a business call.'

The sergeant shrugged and picked up one of the telephones on his desk. He dialed a three-digit number.

'Carl Lyons to see you, Chief. He says it's business.' The sergeant shouldered a long pause before speaking. 'Yes, sir. I'll tell him.'

Around LAPD, Lyons had a reputation as a damn fine warrior, but certain upper-echelon heads hated his brashness, his arrogance and his incurable inability to conform. Braddock was one of those heads.

'Ah, Carl. The chief says to say hello, but he's busy. He told me to take care of what you want...'

'Shit,' Lyons spat as he turned and headed toward Braddock's office.

'Don't do it, Carl. I'd have to stop you.'

Lyons wheeled, reached in his wallet and handed Terney the letter from the President.

'It's a little worn,' he said. 'Overuse.'

Terney whistled. 'God. Is this for real?'

Lyons nodded. He took the letter back and put it in his wallet.

'I'll call him again,' Terney said.

'Don't bother,' Lyons said as he headed toward Braddock's office.

A young policewoman sat at the desk in front of the chief's office. She was tall and well built with shiny blond hair and a healthy glow. Her eyes had strength. Strength to hold a man. The name on the desk plaque read Nel Bly.

As Lyons approached, Officer Bly spoke. 'The chief doesn't want to be disturbed.'

'Well,' Lyons snapped as he strode past her, 'I don't want to disturb the chief. I want to talk to him.'

'You can't go in there,' she said to his back. 'The door has an electronic lock. He has to buzz you in.'

Lyons felt his temperature rising. Heat took hold of his face. He drove his foot into the office door, connecting just under the handle. The lock mechanism held, but the door jamb shattered. He walked in. Braddock, obviously startled by the uncustomary entrance, was on the phone.

'I think so, your honor,' Braddock said. 'Listen, I've got to race. Okay. Later.' He hung up the receiver. 'Lyons, you fuckup,' he growled. 'You'd better have a damn good reason for busting into my office. 'Cause if you...'

'Don't get into the threats, Braddock. You'll never back them up. I need your cooperation. I've got a letter...' Lyons wheeled around and saw what he expected to see: Bly, the well-cut policewoman, with a .38 Charter Arms Police Bulldog in her hand pointed at Lyons. She was smart enough to have waited for backup before challenging the Able Team man. The second cop was a black giant in combat fatigues. The monolith held an Uzi in one enormous, beefy hand.

Lyons's radio beeped.

Emergency.

He reached for his belt to answer Gadgets's summons.

'Don't,' the female cop cautioned. 'Keep your hands clear or lose a hand.'

Where have I heard that before? Lyons thought. The four-inch barrel of the .38 was staring at him.

'Braddock,' he snapped, 'call off the hounds. This beeper, it's an emergency.'

Braddock moved out from behind his desk to confront Lyons. 'You think you're something,' he said. 'Busting in here. Demanding things. You'll sit here, Lyons, until I get some answers.'

Lyons's radio beeped again. He turned back to the doorway. Len Terney had joined the party.

'Len. You've got a brain. I've got the governor's backing. The President'sbacking. I've got a letter from the Man. You've seen it. Tell him to check it out.'

The desk sergeant's voice was weak. 'I've got three weeks until retirement. I'm sorry, Carl. I do what the chief says.'

The giant in battle fatigues had taken a step back from the others. He still had his right hand wrapped around the Uzi. He had a portable radio in the other hand. He was engaged in a conversation; his voice was low. Lyons figured the guy was calling in reinforcements. Some cops liked to stack the odds.

The Able Team warrior knew the police would be reluctant to shoot if he gave them no reason to — if he didn't threaten anyone. He raised his shirt slowly so that everyone could plainly see he was not reaching for a weapon. He deliberately reached for the radio on his belt.

'Don't,' Officer Bly commanded.

Lyons slowly unclipped the radio.

Braddock ordered Terney to take his gun and 'other toys.'

Lyons moved like lightning, pressing the button.

'Ironman here. Wizard, what's up?'

He was answered by dead silence.

Able Team was in trouble. With Terney nearly on top of him, so was Lyons.

6

Terney reached for the radio. Lyons threw it at the elderly officer's stomach. As the cop moved to deal with the flying object, Lyons popped him with a solid hook in the ribs, knocking him toward the policewoman's .38. The young woman sidestepped to avoid her co-worker. She got set to fire.

Lyons had not pulled his Beretta; a shoot-out would have been suicidal. He had to get someone on his side, if even by force. He made a low dive and hit the woman below the knees, dropping her hard to the floor. Then he felt a monster hand clutch his shoulder.

'Guns away,'' a voice bellowed.

Lyons looked up. The giant in combat garb was standing over him. 'Sorry, Lyons,' he said, a sheepish grin crossing his face. 'I checked with Archer. You're okay.'

'Took you long enough to figure that out,' Lyons snarled. 'I could be dead meat.'

'This isn't exactly my territory,' the man explained. 'I'm Tim Sanders, Commander, DeltaBlue Light Team. That's the code name for an instant-response team the FBI's put together. I'm here with Braddock to coordinate Olympic security.''

'Instant response could be a little faster,' Lyons said.

Sanders laughed. 'I deserve that,' he admitted. 'Took me a second to contact Archer.'

'Who's Archer?' Braddock demanded, fury forming lines across his forehead.

'Archer's a Fed,' Lyons said. 'Sanders, is your team here?'

'All here for a briefing. Chopper, too.'

'My team's in trouble. Can you help?'