The Demolishers (40 page)

“About that invasion,” I said. “Dana/Dolores feels it’s going to be a fiasco. She doesn’t think Bultman’s little force has a chance of effecting a successful landing on Gobemador; and even if the boys make it that far, they’ll never break out from their beachhead. It’ll be a Bay of Pigs junior grade. Unless the Kraut has a secret weapon of some kind, or something very tricky up his sleeve like massive reinforcements we don’t know about, Dana says, he’s going to be slaughtered along with his CLL allies.” Mac frowned. “That’s odd. I took for granted . . . Bultman is no self-deceiving fanatic. It didn’t occur to me to have a military expert check the feasibility of his project. He spent a good many years as a mercenary before embarking on his kill-for-pay career. He has seen a large number of wars. I assumed that he wouldn’t embark on a military venture that had no possibility of success. Why didn’t Miss Delgado mention this to me?” “Bultman’s little army was outside the scope of her duties, sir, except insofar as it was partly made up of CLL volunteers. Her business was with the Legion, and whatever information Modesto could give her about it.

She probably thought you were aware of the military situation. But she knows the area, and she knows roughly what kind of defensive forces are available on Gobernador; too great, she feels, to be overcome by Bultman’s few hundred men and their limited equipment.” I shrugged. “I think she simply assumed that the Kraut was just another visionary hothead specializing in glorious lost causes. When I told her that he was a tough professional soldier, she was surprised and disturbed, wondering by what sort of military miracle he expected to get his pocket-sized task force ashore and inland in the face of the government’s greatly superior manpower and firepower.” I frowned. “Has there been any indication that he’s preparing some kind of a surprise?”

Mat hesitated. “Well, the LCT is missing.”

“My God, are there still some of those World War Two relics around?”

“He has a number of boats of various kinds,” Mac said, “some of which have been used quite openly along the shores of Montego for practice landings. The Landing Craft, Tank was one of the largest vessels of the little fleet, close to one hundred and twenty feet. Normally it would be crewed by one officer and a dozen enlisted men. Range seven hundred miles, top speed eight knots.” “Not exactly a speedboat,” I said.

“No, but it can carry five thirty-ton tanks, or three fifty-tonners. So far no tanks have been seen, but delivered at the proper moment they could give the defense forces an unpleasant surprise. However, Bultman’s LCT has apparently been plagued with mechanical problems, not surprising considering, its age. Recently, our local man reported that it was no longer in Montego. His assumption was that Bultman had either given up on it as too unreliable, or had it taken somewhere for expert mechanical attention. We are checking all shipyard facilities he might possibly be using, so far without results. Of course, he may simply have taken the nautical antique offshore and let it sink, to get rid of it.”

“Maybe,” I said. “And maybe it’s picking up a load of clanking metal monsters to spring on the Gobemador home guard at the psychological moment.” I shrugged. “Well, it’s not the immediate problem. I’d like to know what is, sir.”

“What do you mean, Eric?”

I said stiffly, “I thought I had a simple assignment. Ambitious, but basically simple. I thought I was supposed to run down and eliminate, or arrange for the elimination of, the thirteen members of the governing council of the Caribbean Legion of Liberty, plus the three individuals involved in the Mariposa bombing. I was supposed to take care that said terminations were not attributed to the U.S. government. In the interest of public relations they should, wherever possible, be laid at the door or doors of vengeful private parties. It was considered desirable to let these terrorists, and all terrorists, know that driven far enough, ordinary people do bite back. Anyone who intervened was also fair game, particularly Herman Heinrich Bultman—as I recall, the rules for attribution were somewhat relaxed where Herman was concerned, since he’s been wanted a long time by folks who shall remain unnamed. Have I described my mission guidelines accurately, sir?”

Mac said, “We both know what your instructions were, Eric. There’s no need to recapitulate. ...”

“Apparently there is, sir,” I said grimly. “Let me report the present status of my mission. The Kraut has declared himself in as you expected, but he’ll keep until I get around to him. Two of the assigned Mariposa bombers are dead. Unfortunately, as just reported, while I had a crack at the third, there was an identity problem and I lost her; but she’s here and I was planning to rectify my error shortly. Three of the assigned Council members are dead. After learning of the proposed meeting, I formed certain plans for dealing with the rest, but I thought I’d better come down here and scout out the terrain before I put my ideas into action. However, upon arrival, I find a number of our people already on the ground, including the bossman himself. So with all due respect, I ask: Whose goddamn mission is this, anyway?”

‘‘There’s no need to be upset, Eric,” Mac said. ‘‘Checking back through the CLL’s old atrocities was a good idea; and you have done a fine job of putting enough pressure on them to cause them to call this emergency meeting. I would have continued to let you carry on alone, but Modesto’s message indicated a need for haste, and it seemed clear that you would need immediate reinforcements. ...”

He was interrupted by the walkie-talkie: “Trask calling Control.”

Mac picked up the instrument. “Control.”

“In position. Respectfully suggest you commence diversion as soon as it gets a little darker. Will report when planting is complete. Confirm E-hour, please.”

“Execute hour confirmed. Diversion shortly. How is the boy doing?”

“Having a ball, sir. Wickerman says his gadgets are a little crude but really very ingenious. They should present no problems; so we’re using them as planned instead of the stuff Wicky brought for backup. Any further instructions?”

“None.”

“Trask out.”

Mac returned the set to the protecting towel, beside the ugly little firearms. He looked up at me. “In case you don’t remember him, Eric, Wickerman is our explosives specialist.”

I grimaced. “I remember him. Somehow I never seem to get along with people who go in for loud noises—
remember the guy we called Monk, out in Hawaii? I suppose the boy you referred to is Lester Leonard.”

Mac nodded. ‘‘Yes. 1 could see the shape of your plan when his hobby was described to me; I just telescoped your timetable a bit, and brought in Wickerman to make certain young Leonard’s materials would actually do the job and that they were positioned to best advantage.”

I was a little ashamed of my outburst. Nobody likes to have an operation taken over by someone else, even by the top man; but his explanation was reasonable. I hadn’t expected things to break quite so fast.

I said, ‘‘I was planning to ask for an expert to give the boy a hand; I’m glad Wicky’s here to help him.” Halfhearted apologies are a waste of time, so I went on: “Okay, you were right in speeding things up, sir. I thought I had more time. So we’re going to finish the job by using Lester’s whiz-bangs to demolish them and their cafe headquarters?”

“That is correct. Considering the number of restaurants they have bombed, it seems like poetic justice, don’t you think?” Mac’s smile was thin and fleeting. He went on: “Afterwards, we will vanish, and Mr. Leonard and Mrs. Helm will surrender to the authorities and confess to striking this vengeful blow at the terrorists who killed the lady of the young man’s dreams and the young woman’s husband. I very much doubt that, considering the local outrage over the Howard Johnson bombing, they have much to fear in the way of legal action, particularly in view of the discreet pressures we will exert in their favor. And the menacing Legion of Liberty will become an international joke, its fearsome Council of Thirteen smashed by a couple of angry youngsters. Other victims of similar fanatics may be encouraged to take similar retaliatory action. It is really an excellent idea, Eric, and a very satisfactory conclusion of your mission. I congratulate you.”

Anytime he hands out a lot of praise, it means he’s got a very dirty job coming up for you.

I said, “Let’s hold the congratulations until we see the results of the bang, sir. And even if it’s successful, there’s still Bultman.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to deal with him properly.” “When do the fireworks take place?”

“The execute is set at eight o’clock local time; Wick-erman is certain his group can place the charges and get clear by that time. That’s an hour ahead of New York time, if you haven’t adjusted your watch.”

“It’s set.” I studied him for a moment. “What about Dolores and Modesto?” When he didn’t speak at once, I said, “I think we can assume that they’re both inside 424; and that Angela was steering me to the building across the street just so her friends could shoot at me conveniently from their headquarters’ windows.”

Mac nodded. “We have seen nothing of Modesto, but I think your assumption is a good one. It is very fortunate for us.”

“Fortunate?”

He went on calmly, “Yes, we are fortunate in having two people captive inside the place. Otherwise the gang members might have scattered in spite of their arrogant overconfidence. But everyone knows the American obsession with hostages. Why, great military expeditions have been mounted, shining political careers have been wrecked, whole U.S. administrations have foundered, all on account of a few unimportant citizens who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. With two hostages at whom they can point their guns, our terrorists feel completely safe. They know no tenderhearted Americans can possibly bring themselves to attack the building under those circumstances, certainly not without days of meaningless negotiations.”

His voice was dry. It’s one of the subjects on which
he’s slightly irrational, in his ruthless way. His solution of the airliner-hijacking problem would be to send up fighters to blow any hijacked plane out of the sky. He claims that, while it would be a little hard on the passengers involved, it would soon convince potential hijackers that there’s no future for them in messing with the airways; and that would save more lives in the long run. The trouble is, he could be right.

I spoke without expression: “Are we going to make an attempt to get them out before the place goes up?” He gave me his thin smile once more. He said, “That is a stupid question, Eric. You know that, with or without orders, or even against them, you would make the attempt, sentimental as you are, about people as well as dogs. But as it happens, that is why I had Mrs. Helm bring you here. You are the diversion of which we spoke; you will distract the opposition while Trask’s team plants the charges. The silenced pistol I see in your belt is inadequate for this purpose. We want a loud and convincing disturbance. Use the weapons on the table. They are the ones favored by the CLL so the authorities will learn nothing from the distinctive cartridge cases, or the firearms themselves, if you have to leave them. Willard has volunteered to cover you as far as necessary.” Mac paused for a moment, and continued: “How far you penetrate, and who you bring out, is up to you. The charges fire at eight no matter who is inside the building.”

I said, “Including me.” It was not a question.

He nodded. “Including you. Here is a sketch indicating what we’ve been able to learn about the premises. Is there anything else you need to know?”

“Nothing, sir,” I said.

He’d made it pretty clear. He always does.

Willard
was lean and moderately tall, although an inch or two short of my height. He was also a respectable number of years short of my age. He was wearing jeans and a black turtleneck, with a dark blue baseball cap covering most of his blond hair; a good night-fighting costume. He carried one of the Skorpians and had his half of the spare clips tucked away somewhere. There were probably other weapons concealed about his person as well.

I was tempted to ask him to lend me his knife, assuming that he had one; but that would be kind of like asking to borrow somebody’s toothbrush. Guns you can pass around; knives are personal. Besides, I always carry a tricky little belt-buckle blade that would serve in a pinch, but I still missed the Gerber I’d lent to Dana, now lost in enemy hands. I reminded myself that I had another silent weapon at my disposal, in addition to the .22: I had the junior-grade crowbar Dana had bought me, as good as a sap for anyone who had no strong prejudice against skull fractures. There wasn’t much chance of my forgetting it. Tucked inside my pants, with the curved end hooked over my belt, it kept digging into me.

I whispered, “There’s Number 427, front view.” We’d sneaked up on Pacheco Street by way of a narrow alley that had brought us out across the street and a block and a half away. “Second block, second doorway. No welcoming light, you’ll note. They may be expecting me at
the rear, but I doubt it. Their girl Angelita told me that it was all clear back there and unlocked; I should just walk right in and make myself at home. She made it sound so good I doubt very much she expected to be believed. I think she wanted me to figure that she was lying, and hit the door she seemed to be steering me away from.”

“So I go for the front,” Willard said softly.

“Don’t stick your neck out,” I whispered. “Just make them think you’re going for it. Or, to be exact, that I’m going for it. Actually, I think you can safely assume that they’re on this side of the street in one of the second-floor windows above the closed-up restaurant. They wouldn’t have a clear view from the ground floor, somebody could park a car and block them; and how are you going to shoot from those big restaurant windows? The third floor would give them too much of a down-angle for easy target practice. So call it floor two, and I’m guessing that they have a lot of firepower zeroed in on the front of 427, ready to blast me the moment I try to get inside. That’s the kind of trap they set for us once before, in West Palm Beach; and people do tend to repeat their best tricks.”