what he's accomplished for Stony Man.
"His ideas of right and wrong have thus far happily coincided with our ideas of right and wrong."
"Bolan will not move against Farnsworth or the CFB unless he has positive proof," Hal assured the president. "The only indication we have of any possible involvement by Farnsworth in our trouble at Stony Man is the timing of it and his campaign tonight to put us out of business.''
"But let us imagine the worst," suggested the president. "Suppose Colonel Phoenix does find out that Farnsworth and his unit are involved. I can't have him declaring war on Farnsworth and his unit and wiping them out. Colonel Phoenix has always gone by 'an eye for an eye,' and won't that be the way he'll see it if he does find proof of wrongdoing by Farnsworth?"
"I, uh, suppose it could be," hedged Hal. "But one thing you can count on with Mack Bolan is the totally unexpected."
"That's what I'm afraid of," the Man replied. "We're expecting the colonel to be a team man tonight. But when he stomped out of here a while ago, he did not look like someone about to play by the rules."
"The guy's a survivor," said Hal. "Rules only work sometimes."
"He'd better be a survivor if he breaks my rules," growled the president. "I do not want the man liquidating other American agents, no matter what the circumstances."
"That's putting the guy in one hell of a squeeze, isn't it, sir?"
"He's not the only one. I like and admire the guy, but I won't have any choice, Hal, if push comes to shove. Colonel Phoenix will be liquidated before he can make waves that will endanger our national security and this administration. I suggest you make contact with him to apprise him of this fact."
"He well knows the chances he's taking, sir," said Hal. "The personal consequences of his actions have
never
stopped Mack Bolan from doing what he had to do and they won't stop him tonight."
8
Bolan had already clashed with Armenian terrorist groups once before in his new war.
They wage an ongoing war of their own against the modern Turkish government for the twenty-year holocaust at the turn of the century during which millions of Armenians had been reportedly slaughtered by the Turks.
Denounced by all international Armenian communities, the terrorists had been gunning down diplomats and blowing up Turkish businesses and political concerns for decades. One week earlier a bomb had exploded at a Turkish airline counter at Orly Airport in Paris, killing six people and maiming a dozen other tourists. Only two of the victims were Turks. The Justice Commandos of Armenian Genocide had bragged of responsibility for the slaughter.
Lately, more and more of this terrorist activity had taken place on American soil.
Now came Kemal and Izmir.
* * *
The address was a secondhand furniture store on the fringe of the ghetto, not far from the White House.
The store was on a side street, the entrance three steps below sidewalk level, sandwiched in at mid-block by a squat line of dark business fronts.
At the far end of the block, a single streetlamp cast a dull glow that extended only halfway down the street.
Bolan stood in deep shadow up the street from the store. He surveyed the neighborhood, attuning his combat senses to this probe.
The night was warm, the city sounds muted by the breeze that now carried the smell of rain with it.
The street was lined with parked vehicles.
Bolan spotted the pinpoint glow of a cigarette from a sedan parked at the opposite end of the block from the streetlamp.
Company men.
He backtracked away from the sedan, toward the dim streetlamp, and the man, or men, in the car did not see him. Or they did not care.
He rounded the corner building and moved past his parked rental car to the mouth of the alley running behind the shop.
The half moon was blanketed out by the low-hanging thunderheads, making the night blacker than usual in the confines of the alley.
The nightscorcher palmed the Beretta as he jogged down the alley
"His ideas of right and wrong have thus far happily coincided with our ideas of right and wrong."
"Bolan will not move against Farnsworth or the CFB unless he has positive proof," Hal assured the president. "The only indication we have of any possible involvement by Farnsworth in our trouble at Stony Man is the timing of it and his campaign tonight to put us out of business.''
"But let us imagine the worst," suggested the president. "Suppose Colonel Phoenix does find out that Farnsworth and his unit are involved. I can't have him declaring war on Farnsworth and his unit and wiping them out. Colonel Phoenix has always gone by 'an eye for an eye,' and won't that be the way he'll see it if he does find proof of wrongdoing by Farnsworth?"
"I, uh, suppose it could be," hedged Hal. "But one thing you can count on with Mack Bolan is the totally unexpected."
"That's what I'm afraid of," the Man replied. "We're expecting the colonel to be a team man tonight. But when he stomped out of here a while ago, he did not look like someone about to play by the rules."
"The guy's a survivor," said Hal. "Rules only work sometimes."
"He'd better be a survivor if he breaks my rules," growled the president. "I do not want the man liquidating other American agents, no matter what the circumstances."
"That's putting the guy in one hell of a squeeze, isn't it, sir?"
"He's not the only one. I like and admire the guy, but I won't have any choice, Hal, if push comes to shove. Colonel Phoenix will be liquidated before he can make waves that will endanger our national security and this administration. I suggest you make contact with him to apprise him of this fact."
"He well knows the chances he's taking, sir," said Hal. "The personal consequences of his actions have
never
stopped Mack Bolan from doing what he had to do and they won't stop him tonight."
8
Bolan had already clashed with Armenian terrorist groups once before in his new war.
They wage an ongoing war of their own against the modern Turkish government for the twenty-year holocaust at the turn of the century during which millions of Armenians had been reportedly slaughtered by the Turks.
Denounced by all international Armenian communities, the terrorists had been gunning down diplomats and blowing up Turkish businesses and political concerns for decades. One week earlier a bomb had exploded at a Turkish airline counter at Orly Airport in Paris, killing six people and maiming a dozen other tourists. Only two of the victims were Turks. The Justice Commandos of Armenian Genocide had bragged of responsibility for the slaughter.
Lately, more and more of this terrorist activity had taken place on American soil.
Now came Kemal and Izmir.
* * *
The address was a secondhand furniture store on the fringe of the ghetto, not far from the White House.
The store was on a side street, the entrance three steps below sidewalk level, sandwiched in at mid-block by a squat line of dark business fronts.
At the far end of the block, a single streetlamp cast a dull glow that extended only halfway down the street.
Bolan stood in deep shadow up the street from the store. He surveyed the neighborhood, attuning his combat senses to this probe.
The night was warm, the city sounds muted by the breeze that now carried the smell of rain with it.
The street was lined with parked vehicles.
Bolan spotted the pinpoint glow of a cigarette from a sedan parked at the opposite end of the block from the streetlamp.
Company men.
He backtracked away from the sedan, toward the dim streetlamp, and the man, or men, in the car did not see him. Or they did not care.
He rounded the corner building and moved past his parked rental car to the mouth of the alley running behind the shop.
The half moon was blanketed out by the low-hanging thunderheads, making the night blacker than usual in the confines of the alley.
The nightscorcher palmed the Beretta as he jogged down the alley
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