Fortunately Rachel was resilient.
She had already regained her energy and now toted an AK-47 taken from one of her captors.
"We're going to have a real problem upstairs," she said. Her voice betrayed no emotion. Bolan knew it was partly self-control and partly realism.
"What's the situation up there?" he asked.
"If they haven't moved anyone, all the hostages are in the secondary control room. I don't know how Glinkov has his team deployed. But I do know there's only one way into that room."
"Are there guards in with them?"
"There was one on the door. That's all I saw."
Bolan turned to Matt Stevens. "Is there any way we can get to the main control room without being spotted, Matt?"
"Depends on where they are. We can get close, but unless the door is opened from inside, there's only one way in."
"How?" Bolan's voice cracked sharply. The concrete walls echoed as if it was a pistol shot.
Stevens reached into his pocket and withdrew a flat plastic security pass. About the size of a credit card, it was magnetically coded. There was a lock on each of the doors. The card would permit him to open them one at a time. "The problem is, this can be overridden. If Glinkov spots me, we're out of luck."
"Would he be able to tell you were there? Is there an alarm or something that indicates that the card is being used?"
"No, no alarm. But there is a set of lights on the console. If he sees them, and if he knows what they mean, it's all over."
"Then we have to keep him busy," Eli said.
"How?" Rachel demanded.
"I'm supposed to be dead, right?"
"So what if he finds out I'm alive and well? Matt, is there any way I can call attention to myself someplace in the plant?"
"How much attention?" Stevens asked.
"Lots of attention."
"Hell, the easiest thing is just call him on the intercom."
"No good. Too obvious."
"The TV security monitors," Stevens suggested. "You could take a few of them out. He'd have to notice the blank screens."
"Listen," Mack Bolan said. "We have to know what we're up against before we try anything. We make one mistake, and we lose it all. Everything."
"You got any ideas, then, Mack?"
"Look, we know there's a guard on the control room. We also know there's another guard in the backup control room. That means there are at least ten men someplace in this plant. They have guns, and Glinkov needs them."
"But how do we find them?"
"We don't. They find us."
"But the hostages. As long as Glinkov has them, we can't take any chances. We can't jeopardize their lives."
"Their lives are already in jeopardy. And Glinkov wants us to worry about them. He also wants to get out of here alive. He can't afford to get caught here. If he kills the hostages before he gets us, he has no leverage at all. None. I think we should hit him head on. Go right to the control room."
"Then what?"
"If he knows we're coming, we smoke out the other gunners. We take them down, and our problem gets a whole lot easier to solve."
"Mack's right," Eli Cohen said. He stood and picked up his Ingram.
"I don't like it. Those people are friends of mine," Matt Stevens said.
"You have any other ideas, Matt?"
"No... I don't."
"Let's do it."
Matt Stevens found the group anticontamination suits, which they put on before sprinting for the elevators. Rachel had recovered most of her strength, but she still lagged behind the others. It was beginning. Mack Bolan felt the juices flowing. For the first time since getting into the plant, he felt like a soldier instead of a bag man. Head on, that was the way to deal with slime like Glinkov.
Glinkov was going to meet a warrior. Bolan knew men like the Russian always counted on caution.
They used it against you, and then they laughed all the way to their sanctuaries. But this time it would be different.
Mack Bolan was nobody's victim.
It was time to play hardball.
And Mack Bolan knew the rules.
Back on the main floor, the four soldiers had a quick conference.
"Look, keep this in mind," Bolan whispered. "Either way, we win. If we get inside the control room before he notices, we've got him. If we don't we smoke out the other goons. Matt, you said there's a second set of doors into the control room, right?"
"Yeah, but I only have one card."
"It doesn't matter. Eli, you and Rachel get to that other entrance. Make a little noise. Let him know you're there, but watch your back. If he tries to run, he'll come our way. Otherwise we get to him."
As they made ready to leave, two of Stevens's men slipped in through the main entrance.
"Find anything?" Stevens whispered.
"Nothing. The place is deserted."
"We'll have our hands full here," Bolan interrupted. "One of the guys go with Eli, the other come with Matt and me."
"What's going on?"
"You'll see soon enough."
"Matt, how long will it take to get to the other door?" Bolan asked.
"Two or three minutes. Adam knows the way. And now we've got another security card. Adam can get in the other door."
One of the new men nodded.
"Okay. Eli, we'll wait five minutes. Then we'll make our move. Make sure he knows you're there. If there's a guard, you'll have to take him down. But don't take any foolish chances."
Bolan looked at Rachel. She avoided his gaze. The steel in those hard blue eyes frightened her.
"Right."
The three moved out, working their way along the darkened corridor to the opposite approach to the control room. While they waited, Bolan and the others were silent. The Executioner was zeroing in on the job ahead. Glinkov was a pro. And he was good. He wouldn't have gotten this far if he wasn't. He was also unpredictable. Despite his calm exterior, Bolan knew he was risking lives, lives that weren't his to risk. But he had no choice.
To hesitate was to lose. And Mack Bolan hadn't come this far to lose it all at the wire.
Too much had to be accounted for. Hanley's kids were fatherless. That counted. An innocent guard at the plant was dead. That counted.
Bolan wasn't going to rest until he could cancel the debt. Completely. Paid in full was the only settlement he would accept.
There was a guard on the door. He was pacing back and forth in front of it, smoking a cigarette. A pile of butts lay against the wall. The man was either bored or nervous. Cohen smiled grimly. In a minute he'd be neither. In a minute he'd be dead.
The distance was too great to cover without being seen.
On the other hand, they were supposed to create a diversion. Well, here it comes, Cohen thought.
The guard continued his pacing. He was heading toward them. At about fifteen feet past the door, he would pivot and move back the way he had come. Pivot, strut. Pivot, strut.
Cohen timed it perfectly. He had one minute.
The guard paced, and Cohen watched. And waited.
Pivot, strut. Cohen didn't want to shoot him in the back. He wasn't a grandstander, but he wasn't a backshooter, either. If he didn't have to be.
The guard turned again, his AK-47 slung carelessly over his shoulder. The man stopped to light a new cigarette from the stub of his last one. He dropped the butt to the floor and ground it under his heel, then kicked it into the pile. Cohen made his move.
"That's littering, pal." He stepped into view, his Ingram held waist high. "You should be more careful."
The moron didn't know any better. He reached for his Kalashnikov, and Cohen squeezed the trigger. The Ingram belched one short burst. It caught the guy just above the belt line, nearly cutting him in two and slamming him backward.
Blood gushed over his belt, cascading down over his pants. He had been so surprised, he hadn't said a word.
Quickly Adam and Eli dragged the lifeless body against the wall, dropping it over the heap of cigarettes. The SMG's suppressor was a good one. Eli doubted Glinkov even heard them.
Cohen looked through the small glass panel in the door, but he couldn't see anyone in the control room. Rachel walked back to the intersection to keep watch. Adam slipped his card into the first security lock and began punching in the code number to release the lock. None of them heard the approaching footsteps.
The every five minutes were up.
Mack Bolan stepped around the corner and made for the guard. Facing away from him, the man didn't notice Bolan's approach. Bolan's Ingram was ready to spit fire. Bolan narrowed the gap.
He could hear Stevens and the other plant guard right behind him. Their footsteps sounded like thunder in Bolan's ears, and still the guard didn't turn. With twenty yards still to go, at last the guard looked at them. His face, behind a bright red beard, froze.
Bolan fired.
The deadly rain of .45 caliber slugs chewed into the guy from the neck up. The man's skull shattered, and he struck the floor. As they reached the still spastic figure on the concrete, Bolan tugged the dead man's Kalashnikov free and slung it over his shoulder. The ruptured skull oozed blood and brain tissue. The man's face was gone, as if it had never been there at all. One eye lolled over a shattered cheekbone, like a cherry on its stem.
The three warriors covered the remaining distance to the first door without opposition. While Stevens worked on the lock, Bolan peered through the large window into the control room. Glinkov was absorbed at the control console. He was intently watching the array of gauges and dials. The inner guard was seated casually before the secondary control room. Its door was closed. Neither man seemed to have heard anything. If luck were with them, Cohen and his team would be working on their doors by now. The eerie silence was broken by a sudden burst of gunfire from the opposite side of the control room.
"That's at the other door!" Stevens shouted.
Bolan knew Eli was in trouble. And Rachel was with him.
"Matt, keep at it. I'll be back as soon as I can. If you get it open, go in. And watch yourself." He sprinted across the floor, heading for the corridor leading to the other doorway.
The gunfire continued. It sounded like a small war. Cohen must still be alive, or the shooting would have stopped. At the mouth of the passage, Bolan paused. A security mirror high on the wall showed him the full length of the corridor. Adam lay in a pool of blood, sprawled in front of the unopened security door.
Three of Glinkov's men were at the other end of the passage. Cohen peered from the scant cover of an open office door farther down the hall. As Bolan watched, Eli sprayed hellfire along the corridor without aiming. He was holding the Ingram in his left hand, extending it just enough to hold off the attackers with blind fire.
Rachel was nowhere in sight.
Checking his own SMG, Bolan put in a fresh clip and waited. There was a time to plant, and a time to reap. The Executioner was going to plant some lead.
The Grim Reaper would bring in the crop.
The passage intersected another at right angles. Bolan could fire down the hall and cross to the opposite side while the gunners dived for cover. With a little luck, he might nail one of them. Watching the mirror closely, he waited. Eli pulled his weapon back to reload. The three men charged. Bolan made his move.
With the Ingram held at waist level, he began firing as he stepped into the intersection. The lead man was chewed up; the deadly spray from Bolan's SMG had punched through his chest wall. Wild return fire ricocheted off the concrete walls as the remaining two men dived for the floor. Eli rejoined the firefight with a short burst, and Bolan was across the hall.
If he remembered his quick lesson in the layout, he could work his way around behind. He fired another quick burst and sprinted for the next intersection. The gun battle continued behind him, its echoes resounding along the maze of concrete passages.
He skidded to a halt at the next passageway, checked it for opposition and rushed on. The noise died abruptly. Bolan increased his pace. The next passage was just ahead. As he ran, he changed clips in the Ingram, slipping the half-empty one back into his coat. At the corner he stopped. There was another mirror, and he scanned it quickly. He knew they could see him as well as he could see them in it. But the hallway was empty except for Adam's body and that of the man he had nailed in crossing the hall.
All right.
He changed back to the half-empty clip, wasted the mirror, then reloaded. He'd rather fight blind than give them the advantage of the glass. He tossed the empty magazine into the corridor. It bounced once, twice, then disappeared in a hail of bullets and concrete chips. So they were still there.
But where was Eli? And Rachel?
The architecture of the damn building was an obstacle. All right angles, there was no way to get from A to B without exposing oneself. It hadn't been planned as a hell zone.
And while he waited, the clock ticked. If Stevens managed to get the door open, he'd need all the help he could get. Things had to be wrapped up on this end. Now.
What the hell, he told himself. Sometimes you have to take the bull by the horns. Steeling himself, Bolan charged into the open corridor. He watched both walls, looking for the first sign of movement.
He sprayed a burst the length of the hall. No one returned fire. Charging ahead, he reached the body of the dead man. His weapon was gone. Ahead on the left, a door yawned open.
Inside, he answered one of his questions. The other two lay dead. Somebody had nailed them already. From behind. Bolan pushed on to the next office. Three empty clips lay just inside the door. But the room was vacant. No Eli. And no Rachel.
Adam's security card, what was left of it, dangled from the mangled lock. It was useless. And Bolan doubted the outside mechanism would function. He rushed back to the main control access. Stevens was nowhere to be seen. Another of Stevens's men, Donny Grissom, lay dead on the floor. Approaching cautiously, he peered through the master window, just in time to see Glinkov vanish through the opposite door. A klaxon somewhere deep in the plant began a mournful uproar.
Stevens was just inside the first door. He had been wounded. Blood soaked his right sleeve. He was still struggling with the second lock.
"What happened, Matt?" Bolan demanded.
"I don't know. Somebody besides us. They killed Donny, but he was between them and me. I got the door open just in time."
"Did you see Eli?"
"No. Why?"
"He's missing. So is Rachel."
"Adam? Is he okay?"
Bolan said nothing.
Stevens collapsed to the floor. "Those bastards."
"We'll get them, Matt."
Stevens grabbed the bloody sleeve of the anticontamination suit and ripped it loose at the shoulder. "Help me wrap this."
Bolan bound the ugly wound in Stevens's upper arm. The security chief turned back to the lock.
He punched in the combination code, pressed the release and the door hummed open. Inside, the sound of the klaxon was insistent.
There was no one in the control room. Bolan ran to the backup control room door. The lock was destroyed. He stepped back and planted a sharp kick just above the damaged lock. The door swung back with a crash. The room was empty except for two dead men lying against one wall. Bolan looked at the security man. "Do you know anything about this reactor? Can you work the controls?"
"Nothing. No, nothing."
Two more flashing lights joined the carnival array high on the board. They felt the rumble before they heard it. It grew slowly and sounded as if it would never stop.
The deserted control room echoed with the sound of alarms. Blinking lights were everywhere. Bolan stared at the flickering monitors. The images were randomly selected. As he watched, a group of shadows zipped past on one screen. As he moved in closer, the image changed.
"Matt, is there any way to select the cameras for these things?"
"Sure. What do you want to see?"
"I don't know. I thought I saw Rachel and Eli. But there were three figures. They were gone before I could get a fix on it."
"Okay, I'll run through the cameras one at a time. Keep an eye on the top left-hand screen. If you see something, holler."
Stevens sat at the security console. One by one, he scrolled through the cameras. Bolan watched intently. He was beginning to doubt that he had seen anything. Image after image of the gloomy depths of the plant flew by corridors, storage rooms, work areas dominated by huge conduits and rumbling machinery.
"Hold a minute. Go back." Bolan shouted in his excitement. "No, one more. There."
The three figures he had seen were back. It was too dimly lit to be sure who they were, but despite their suits, he knew one of them was a woman. Their backs were to the camera, and they were stooped over, moving cautiously.
"Can you move in closer, Matt?"
"Hang on." Stevens looked for the right button. When he found it, the image on the screen grew larger. The figures were still dark, but there was no question. He had found Eli and Rachel. But who was the third person?
He had to know.
"What's that location?"
"It's on Level 4. The southwest quadrant."
"Matt, you stay here. Don't let anyone you don't know in here."
"Where the hell are you going?" But Bolan was already gone.