do what?”
“Ideally take that cache of diamonds away from Hegre, stop them from rebuilding their cash stores and try to get a line on where the uranium is.”
“That all sounds damn fanciful to me.”
“There’s always Lise Delaware,” Mitchell said quietly.
“I understand your need to settle this because of your dead teammates,” Duncan said. “The FBI does not go in for personal vengeance, Agent Mitchell—Sarah.”
Mitchell took a breath. “Sir, Hegre is the cause of those deaths. They need to take responsibility for them. In a court of law if possible. We’re talking about a major criminal organization here. One that uses bribery of law enforcement officials and anyone they can get their hands on to protect their interests. Who murder at will.”
“You make a good case,” Duncan said. “You have the means to get to your destination, Cooper?”
Bolan nodded. “Yes.”
Duncan shook his head. “I must be crazy to allow this. If it backfires, Sarah, we’ll both be out of a job. If anyone asks, you’re on special assignment, undercover and out of contact.” He threw up his hands. “What the hell am I doing? Just get out of here, the pair of you, before I get all righteous and lock you both up.”
* * *
MITCHELL DROVE WHILE Bolan contacted Hal Brognola, director of the Sensitive Operations Group, whose base was at Stony Man Farm.
“Are you sure about this?” Brognola asked after Bolan had laid out his next move.
“Hegre is leaving a trail of bodies while they wheel and deal. FBI agents, truckers in Australia, and there’s the possibility of a deal with Iran for uranium. Hegre needs to be shut down, put out of business for good.”
“I should know better than to even question what you’re up to. Tell me what you need. Barb will arrange to have tickets ready for you at Seattle-Tacoma airport. We have your photo, and Aaron will access Mitchell’s from the FBI database. I’ll have passports couriered to you by first thing tomorrow morning and left at the hotel desk.”
“Hotel?”
“We’ll book you in for an overnight stay. Details on which hotel will follow.”
“Have Andy Chen meet us at the airport in Hong Kong. We’ll have to leave weapons behind. In the SUV. I’ll leave the key at reception.”
Chen was a contact Bolan had used before.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll have a pickup arranged. Chen will be able to get you ordnance once you arrive and a satellite phone.”
“Thanks.”
“Keep in touch, Striker. You know how Hegre operates, so stay on your toes.”
“I have good backup on this.”
“And more at home.”
“Watch yourselves.”
“Good backup?” Mitchell said as Bolan ended the call. “Was that about me?”
“Do you always eavesdrop?”
Mitchell smiled. “Only if it matters.”
“It matters.”
“Then thanks.”
“Keep your eyes peeled for a shopping mall,” Bolan said.
“Why?”
“If we turn up at the airport dressed this way, someone is going to think it’s a SWAT raid. We need clothes to fit the role of tourists.”
They rolled into the parking area of a mall twenty minutes later. Mitchell led the way and they hit a couple of stores, using Bolan’s Stony Man issued credit card to buy what they needed. A quick visit to restrooms and they emerged dressed in casual outfits more suited to the roles they were about to play. They would leave the soiled clothing in the SUV. The only item Bolan retained was his leather jacket.
Bolan had purchased a couple of lightweight carryalls for the change of clothing they had bought. He added a third bag for the weapons they would leave behind. Before they drove away from the mall they placed their weapons in the third bag, wrapped in the clothes they were abandoning. Bolan stowed the bag in the SUV’s trunk, out of sight.
Minutes before they arrived at the airport Bolan’s cell rang. It was Barbara Price, Stony Man’s mission controller.
“A king guest room was booked for you at the Seattle Airport Marriott. The reservation was made for Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton. That’s who you are on your new passports. You look like a nice couple.”
“Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Your friends interest me,” Mitchell said.
“Interesting is one way to describe them. Head for the Seattle Airport Marriott hotel. It appears we’re booked in as a married couple. The Hamiltons. Passports should arrive before we fly out tomorrow at 11:00 a.m.”
“Whoever you friends are they have good taste,” Mitchell said as they reached the hotel.
She drove the SUV into the parking lot and they made their way inside the hotel.
Mitchell wandered around the large room, checking the facilities.
“Is this your usual standard?”
“No. Sometimes only get a single bed.”
“Cooper, do you mind if I crash? The day’s catching up on me. You know what I mean?”
“You go ahead.”
Mitchell took a fast shower, wrapped herself in a bathrobe and climbed into the bed.
“Just wake me in time for breakfast,” she murmured.
* * *
WHILE BOLAN AND Mitchell slept, a Stony Man courier arrived in Seattle at 6:35 a.m. He handed over the sealed package at the desk of the Marriott, picked up the keys for Bolan’s SUV and drove out of the parking lot. He drove to a small private airport where he transferred to an aircraft for his return flight to Washington, taking with him the carryall containing the ordnance Bolan had left behind.
* * *
AT 8:00 A.M. Bolan picked up the package waiting at the hotel reception desk. It held the Stony Man–prepared passports for himself and Mitchell. They looked well used and were stamped with entry and exit visas from a number of countries.
When he showed the passports to Mitchell, over breakfast, she was impressed.
“I may keep this,” she said. “It would be very handy if I want to take a quiet trip somewhere.”
“What would SAC Duncan have to say about that?”
“That
