gritted his teeth against the possibility one of them might continue through and strike a hostage, but his fears were never realized.
Bolan reacquired a sight picture on the remaining gunner as the man triggered a burst in Carron’s direction that sent the CIA agent diving for cover. The weapon skewed upward and delivered a flurry of rounds harmlessly into the corkboard ceiling as the Executioner pumped two slugs through the man’s skull. The bullets split his head clean open and dumped him to the floor.
In a snap decision, Bolan backed from the divider and raced across the room. He opened the door, peered into the hallway and then made for the steps when he verified it was empty. As the Executioner pushed through the door and climbed the stairwell he considered the situation at hand. The St. Petersburg police would undoubtedly swarm the building in the next ten minutes, which didn’t give him much time. He couldn’t remain in his room—they would conduct a door-to-door search, to be sure, and that meant a lot of uncomfortable questions. He would have to exit by the first-floor window of the rear stairwell. He could stow the pistol in a locker of one of the nearby train stations, so if they cordoned the area he wouldn’t get caught with a weapon.
Bolan went quickly through his room, left the clothes hanging in the closet and the bag of toiletries on the sink, and removed only his forged identification and passport and heavy overcoat. He made his exit through the rear stairwell window unobserved, donned the overcoat once outside, then headed to a nearby pay-phone. He dialed the hotel, asked if he had any messages, then hung up immediately. That would probably provide a fairly decent alibi if he was questioned by police at any later point. Bolan then headed for the train station where he could dump his armament.
Then it would become a waiting game. He would need to touch base with Stony Man at some point to see if he could get a line on Carron. There was no point in keeping his cover. He would need some backup in his search for the two missing contacts, and Carron seemed the most sensible one to provide that given he was out to accomplish the same end as Bolan. Things were shaping up just as they always seemed to for the Executioner.
Yeah. Business as usual.
EVEN WITH THEIR ADVANCED computer systems, it took Stony Man more than four hours to track down Lyle Carron. By the time Bolan found him in a small coffee shop on the outskirts of St. Petersburg, the massive clock on a nearby church had nearly struck 10:00 p.m. and another three inches of snow had fallen. Bolan shook the snow from his overcoat as he came through the door. He nodded at the barista, ordered a coffee in Russian and then moved over to Carron’s table.
“Mind if I sit down?” Bolan asked quietly.
Carron’s eyes focused on Bolan’s with surprise, then the company guy gestured to a seat in front of him. Bolan sat but the two men said nothing until the barista arrived with a carafe of hot coffee and then departed. Wisps of steam danced off the coffee as Bolan poured a cup for himself and then refilled Carron’s. The Company man looked bothered, his face gaunt and drawn, and Bolan had been in the business long enough to know what was eating at him.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Bolan said. “Balford, I mean.”
Carron looked Bolan in the eyes, something few men seemed able to do without looking away just as quickly. While the CIA agent didn’t say anything, Bolan could tell Carron was sizing him up. Many other men had looked into those same twin points of ice blue and shrunk under the stare. Carron seemed to take little more than a passing interest, obviously trying to decide whether he could trust Bolan.
“How did you find me?” When Bolan frowned, Carron waved it away and added quickly, “Never mind. Dumb question.” He took a sip of coffee and said, “You’re not Company.”
It wasn’t a question and Bolan shook his head. He extended his hand and said, “Name’s Cooper. Or Matt, if you prefer.”
“NSA?”
“Let’s just say I’m not on any page in the book,” Bolan said with a wan smile.
“The other shooter at the hotel. You?”
Bolan nodded. “Sorry I didn’t stick around, but I had to beat feet for the same reasons you did.”
“I’d like to know who sent you,” Carron said matter-of-factly. “And why.”
“And I’ll be happy to tell you,” Bolan said. “But first I have a question for you. What do you think may have happened Rostov and Cherenko?”
Carron shrugged and let out a sigh. “I figure they made someone who was onto them, maybe they had a tail. They would have known it was too risky to make the rendezvous or lead their friends from the SMJ to the hotel. Probably took them on a wild-goose chase. Either that or the SMJ caught up to them before they could meet us, tortured them for the time and place, then sent some boys to take care of me and George.”
“What about the car? You didn’t try to follow it?”
“What car?”
“The one that deposited the four hardcases outside the front door.”
Carron shook his head and frowned. “There wasn’t any car there. I used the front for my own exit, and only thing I saw was a corpse. Figured that was your handiwork, too.”
“No dice,” Bolan replied.
The Executioner felt a knot settle in his stomach. Somebody had obviously ambushed the driver, left his carcass on the sidewalk and taken the car. All of that had probably happened during Bolan’s trip to the first floor and the subsequent gun battle. He hadn’t even thought about that; he figured the driver would either get spooked after a certain amount of time elapsed and split, or the cops would pen him in and nab him when they arrived.
“The fact someone smoked the driver and got away means they were waiting for them,” Bolan finally said. “Either that or they saw an opportunity and decided to exploit it.”
“Yeah,” Carron replied. “And I don’t think it takes a genius to figure out who did it.”
“I sat watch on that street for more than an hour,” Bolan said. “And I never saw Rostov or Cherenko. Never saw anybody.”
“Not your fault. The weather was shit and you couldn’t have figured the SMJ would try making a play with me and Balford covering all bets. Besides, you weren’t there as the primary.”
Bolan reacted to that.
The CIA man smiled. “Don’t look so surprised. The Company has some sources, too.”
“So you knew they sent me?”
“Well, not you specifically, but I figured they’d send someone,” Carron replied. “Let’s face it. It would’ve been stupid for the upper echelon in Wonderland to put all of their eggs in one basket. I think that’s what got me incensed more than anything. They put out George and me as sacrificial lambs, almost like they were expecting us to blow it. Okay, I’m thick-skinned and I can take it, but George was barely out of college. Just a kid, Cooper.”
Carron lit a cigarette and poured them more coffee, then said, “I get it, though. And I understand them sending you as backup. The information Rostov and Cherenko have is obviously too important to trust without some type of failsafe operation in place. For what it’s worth, pal, I’m still glad you were there to cover my six.”
“Fact
