“And,” Bolan continued, “somebody who knew we were going in there had advance notice and sent in another team to beat us to the punch. I don’t know if they got Chris, but it’s a likely probability.”
“You think maybe Jesús De la Noval took Avelia?” Brognola asked.
“Run with a prisoner he knew was a federal agent? Not likely.”
Brognola compressed his lips, and then nodded. “Yeah, I agree.” He stared at Bolan as an uneasy silence descended over them. The higher-ups in the federal government never liked to admit they’d made a mistake when an operative ended up compromised, especially in cases where the screwup caused a loss of life. They both knew there would be substantial hand-wringing and finger-pointing as everyone struggled to avoid culpability. But that didn’t change the facts: Chris Avelia hadn’t been properly protected and was most likely now in enemy hands, or dead.
Finally, Brognola said, “There was a leak somewhere along the line. I’ll see what I can find out about that, and get back to you. And I’ll make sure that the President knows, as well.”
Bolan nodded. He knew his friend would do his best in that regard. “Have Aaron check into something else, too. Jack and I saw some helicopters leaving as we approached. It’s doubtful they belonged to De la Noval. They looked like old surplus U.S. military. They had to have transported the team that hit the compound before we arrived. Maybe he can track them down.”
“We’ll get right on that, too,” Brognola said. “Anything else I need to brief the President on?”
“Just that Chris is a good man. Tell him I’m not about to stop looking until I find him. He’d better not, either.”
Brognola’s expression grew sadder and he nodded. At this point the chance Chris Avelia would be found alive was slim to none. Once Bolan knew for sure, his mission would shift from one of rescue to revenge, or as he called it, moral justice.
Tucson, Arizona
THE LIAISON WITH Ellen at their usual spot, the Holiday Inn, was turning out to be anything but the romantic interlude that Lassiter had anticipated. In fact, it was having just the opposite effect on him. The first thing she did was have him take off his shirt, which he took as a good sign. Then he noticed the bed. It was covered with fresh towels. What was that about?
They’d been meeting there for the better part of a year, ever since Dr. Allan Lawrence had brought her in to assist with the GEM Program. Lawrence had introduced her as “Dr. Campbell,” and said, “I’ve brought her west from D.C. She was my finest student at Johns Hopkins.”
Lassiter couldn’t care less about that. One look at the young, twenty-something blonde, with oval glasses and a knockout figure even in a lab coat, and he was smitten. He didn’t hesitate at all when they’d moved to the private examination room and she’d told him to strip down for his physical.
“I’m ready to check anything you want,” he said with a smile. “Demonstrations can be arranged also.”
She’d smiled, too. Briefly. Just a hint of perfect white teeth flashing behind an almost shy expression. But she wasn’t smiling now. The blue eyes looked deadly serious...and sad.
“We need to do this now?” Lassiter said as he reclined on the rather hard motel bed and extended his bare arm toward her. He used his other hand to fluff up the pillow. “I’ve only got about two hours, you know.”
She shot him one of her piercing glances as she tied a rubber ligature around his massive biceps.
“Is this going to hurt?” he asked, trying to sound playful. Getting an IV right now was probably the last thing on his mind. What the hell had gotten into her that this took precedence over them enjoying each other’s bodies for a while?
“I’ll try to be gentle,” she said as she wiped the inner aspect of his right elbow with an alcohol swab. Her dainty fingers looked glossy in the thin, latex gloves. Those were a bit of surprise, too. If she was worried she was going to catch something, it was way too late at this point in their relationship.
“What’s with the gloves?” he asked.
“John, please,” she said, looking around. “I need something to hang this bag on.”
He glanced toward the door. “Too bad this isn’t one of those old bed-and-breakfast places. They’d probably have a coat rack handy.”
She reached into her medical bag and pulled out a catheter. He barely felt the needle slide into his distended vein. A few drops of blood fell out of the shunt before she attached it to the IV line, secured the hookup with some tape and then straightened, holding the plastic plasma bag over him.
“Hook it on the mirror over that.” He pointed toward a dresser adjacent to the bed. “Use one of the coat hangers.”
She looked, and then told him to hold the bag as she went to the small closet and tried to pull one of the thick metal hangers from the clothes rack. They were secured by a circular design that kept patrons from stealing them. Swearing, she turned to him with a frustrated look.
Lassiter was already off the bed and moving toward her. She started to protest, but he held the IV bag above his head as he walked. When he was next to her he asked, “Need some assistance, milady?”
Ellen bit her lower lip, then reached up and took the bag. “Do you think you can pull one of those off without disturbing the hookup?”
He grinned. “Does a bear shit in the woods?”
“John, be careful. Don’t bend your arm. I’m serious.”
He kept his right arm straight as he grabbed the hanger. The fingers of his left hand curled around the thick, circular metal. For a moment the muscles in both his arms flexed like gigantic pythons awakening. He bent the circular clasp, freed it from the rod and handed the hangar to her. “How’s that?”
“Fine,” she said. “Thank you. Now go back and lie down.”
“Don’t I get a kiss as a reward?” He leaned close to her, his lips brushing hers.
She kissed him softly, but with a gentle urgency, and he once again sensed that something was off.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Go lie down. Let me get this hung.” Still holding the IV bag, she guided him toward the bed and waited while he resumed his position of repose. Then she slipped the tab of the IV bag over the bent portion of the hanger and looped it over the corner of the mirror.
Lassiter watched the steady drip of clear liquid as it fell from the transparent bag into the plastic line attached to the adapter.
“What is that stuff?” he asked. “More GEM goodies?”
She blinked, holding her eyes closed a second or two longer than she should have, and then smiled. “It’s a combination of antibiotics and some other medications.”
“Antibiotics?” He grinned. “Afraid I picked up an STD south of the border?” When she didn’t smile back, he added, “For the record, I didn’t.”
“I want
