Maelstrom - Don Pendleton Gold Eagle Stonyman

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the prototypes and there wasn’t a damned thing either of them could do about it.

      Encizo couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this helpless.

      As Manning wiped tears from his face, he said, “I hope Cal is all right.”

      “I’ll tell you what,” Encizo said, one muscle twitching in his cheek. “If he’s dead, I’ll hunt down every one of those bastards and kill them barehanded.”

      “Let’s not jump the gun, Rafe,” Manning said quietly. He cleared his lungs with a fit of coughing and then continued. “We don’t know if he’s dead or not dead. David just said he had one down. We don’t know what that means.”

      Encizo’s eyes were as haunting as his expression. “I know what it means.”

      Manning decided not to argue with his teammate; partly because he didn’t see any point and partly because he knew it didn’t much matter. The roar of the ATV engines and subsequent fading as they moved away from the demo grounds told the whole story. Their enemy had escaped with their booty and Phoenix Force had been unable to stop them. The reasons no longer mattered, that was just the way the chips had fallen.

      One thing was certain in Manning’s mind. This wasn’t over. Not even close.

      CHAPTER TWO

      Stony Man Farm, Virginia

      The unlit cigar nearly fell from Harold Brognola’s mouth as he sat forward in his chair.

      “Say that again, please?”

      Barbara Price, the Farm’s mission controller, had just walked into the big Fed’s office and set a cup of coffee in front of the man. She took a seat in front of his desk. Price immediately observed the knuckles of Brognola’s hand turning white. He was clutching the phone and furrows were forming above his eyebrows. That wasn’t a good sign. It meant the Stony Man chief was stressing, his anxiety building to a point that would one day either cause him a stroke, heart attack or some other fatal ailment. He already suffered from digestive problems.

      “Okay, I’m sure we’ll hear from our people shortly. Thank you for calling, sir. I’ll keep you informed.”

      Brognola dropped the phone into the receiver.

      “Hal, what is it?” Price asked.

      “That was the President,” he said, looking her in the eye with a granite expression. “The Secretary of State just notified him that there was what the Australian government described as an ‘incident’ at the conference.”

      “What happened?”

      “Apparently a dozen or more heavily armed men, which by the way have not yet been identified, attacked during the middle of a demonstration and began shelling the area with grenades and automatic weapons fire. Security teams responded, including Phoenix Force, but apparently there were some casualties. One of them was identified as a black man belonging to a, quote ‘private security detachment assigned to the conference,’ end quote.”

      “Calvin.”

      “There’s no confirmation of that yet,” Brognola reminded her with a stern look and a wagging finger. “And there have also been no reports of any deaths, so let’s not jump to any conclusions until we know what the hell is going on.”

      “Well, why haven’t we heard from Phoenix yet?”

      “I’m not sure,” Brognola replied. “It may be that if one of them was injured, they’re getting medical attention first. I’m sure David will contact us when he can.”

      As if on cue, a buzzing sounded on Brognola’s phone. It was a unique signal that indicated the call was coming from the internal voice and data communications network that connected the farmhouse with the Annex, a new underground facility that housed highly advanced centers for communication, cybernetics and security to support all of Stony Man’s operations.

      “Brognola,” the Stony Man chief barked into the phone. “They are? All right, we’ll be right there.”

      Price wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him move so fast. Brognola was out of his chair and hurrying toward the electric car that ran nearly a quarter-mile underground between the farmhouse and the Annex. Price followed him with all of the same vigor.

      The big Fed flipped a switch and the car obediently surged toward the Annex. “That was Aaron on the phone. He says that David’s called in.”

      “Did he say how he sounded?”

      Brognola shook his head. “I don’t think Aaron knows yet that there was even trouble.”

      “Well, if I know David, he knows now.”

      They arrived at the Annex and a minute later they were standing outside the Computer Room, their way blocked by a burly guy with a wrestler-like body that was, unfortunately, confined to a wheelchair for life. Still, that fact had never broken the mind or the spirit of Aaron “The Bear” Kurtzman. The indomitable technology genius greeted them at the door and raised a cautionary hand.

      “Everyone’s okay,” Kurtzman reported. He fixed Brognola with a gentler expression and added, “Including Calvin.”

      Price felt the anxiety ebb from her and she could literally see the tension dissipate in Brognola’s shoulders. She thought it odd that she could read her boss, even from the rear, but the tension in his posture had been so evident that the relief could only be equally so.

      Kurtzman turned and entered the Computer Room, followed by Brognola and Price.

      Brognola said to strategically placed speaker phones, “David, you with us?”

      “Yes, and you bloody well kept me waiting long enough here, Hal.”

      Price couldn’t help but smile. She winked at Brognola when he looked at her and smiled triumphantly before saying, “Report.”

      McCarter sighed. “We took some pretty bad hits. This has to be one of the worst security gigs we’ve ever done.”

      “I just got off the phone with the Man, and he tells me the Australian government was hedging when briefing the SOD.”

      “That’s a mild understatement, “ McCarter replied. “They had just completed their fourth demonstration and were about to move on in the presentation when it all hit the bloody fan. Aggressors were dressed in standard desert camouflage fatigues, carrying a variety of automatic rifles and machine pistols, and launching high-explosive grenades into the area like it was free.”

      “How many are we talking here?”

      “A dozen, give or take. We managed to bring down about half before it all went to hell.”

      “Were you able to determine origin?” Price interjected.

      “No, but there wasn’t exactly time to ask them where they were from, and none of us got close enough to tell. They were definitely thorough. They not only got the weapons, but they managed to round up their dead.”

      “Obviously looking to avoid any type of identification,” Price concluded.

      Brognola nodded at her, then asked, “What’s Calvin’s status?”

      “He’ll pull through. The bugger took a bit of shell shock. The concussions from their HE grenades damn near knocked us all batty. We had to get him and all of the civilians evacuated first before I could touch base with you. We’re at our hotel now and this is the first chance they’ve given us to contact you.”

      “First chance who’s given you?”

      “Investigators from the Crown,” McCarter replied in a sour tone.

      “They have no right to hold you under any circumstances,” Brognola replied. “I made sure your credentials granted you diplomatic immunity. I’ll make a call and get you released.”

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