"I told him to run the men through a few special drills. Don't worry, he knows what he's doing. We should take advantage of his knowledge."
"You haven't forgotten our decision to kill him after this is over, have you?" he whispered.
"On the contrary," she smiled. "I want you did your best work on him. Exceed yourself. I want what you did to those two agents to look like kindness. There should not be one square inch of his body left unexplored that might cause him excruciating pain. And not just pain, I want you to humiliate him however you can, physically, psychologically. Get Rudi to help you, I'm sure he'd appreciate the opportunity. And then when our Sergeant Grendal reaches that limbo beyond pain, I want you to chop his body into bits except for the head. That we want them to recognize. After they receive his remains the authorities will think twice about how they are to deal with us."
Thomas studied his sister's face with puzzlement.
In the past she had not minded his torturing and brutalizing certain people, but she had never encouraged him either. Now she was insisting on it. He could tell by the hard edges around her mouth that she meant it, too.
Whatever the American had done to earn her wrath, he would certainly be sorry by tonight. This would be Thomas's greatest achievement, perhaps making it last for days before death would end his pleasure... and the sergeant's life.
"What happened to Hermann's hand?" he said, nodding at the bandage.
"An accident."
Rudi came around the corner of one of the buildings and Thomas was startled at the man's appearance.
Dark purple bruises circled his eyes and spread across his cheeks. His nose was bandaged with white adhesive tape, but it still looked as if it had been flattened with a sledgehammer.
"My God," Thomas gasped. "What happened to Rudi, his face?"
"An argument with the American. No one's fault."
"No one's fault first Hermann has an 'accident, then Rudi is injured. We should kill this American right now, not take any chances of taking him along."
"There's no rush," she said quietly. "He's a man who will do anything for money. He won't harm our mission. If we had more like him we could pull this whole thing off with half the men."
"I don't like it." Thomas shook his head. "He's dangerous."
Tanya smiled. "So are we, brother. So are we."
Bolan grabbed one of the hardguys roughly by the shoulder and pitched him forward into the snow. "Pick up your feet! All of you. You'll never make it through this kind of snow if you use your legs like plows. You'll poop out after half a mile."
The terrorists grumbled but under the watchful eyes of Tanya and Thomas Morganslicht, dutifully picked up their feet and trudged forward. Bolan continued shouting automatic orders at them while he studied the situation around him. Tanya had "suggested" he warm the troops up with some special drills, so he'd been making it look legitimate and military. It had been a clever move on her part. This way he was out in the middle of the campground, unarmed, his voice could be heard anywhere in the camp, and he was surrounded by armed killers. It was tighter security than locking him up.
Without looking directly at them, he was aware of Thomas and Tanya conversing on the porch of their cabin. He did not need to overhear their conversation to know exactly what they were saying. They were a little shorthanded after last night's raid, so they would take advantage of having this trained soldier. They had already offered him money, and since that was what they thought he wanted most in the world, there would be no suspicion of betrayal. Nevertheless, they had probably decided to kill him immediately after the raid, to avoid paying him, and choking off any risk that he might sell them out for a better offer. That gave Bolan until the raid to free the hostages and figure a way to grind these people into the dirt.
"All right," Thomas yelled as he approached Bolan, his Luger tucked into the waist of his jeans. "I think that's enough warm-up, Sergeant. Nicely done." He slipped into his friendly mask again, tugging the coners of his mouth into a parody of a smile.
He waved at Rudi, who stood nearby scowling at Bolan. It was no longer hate in Rudi's eyes, but something more basic, an animal passion for revenge. With gun if possible, but with teeth and nails if necessary. Rudi pivoted, the morning sun glinting off his white bandaged nose, and hurried toward the cabin where the hostages were kept during the night.
Tanya joined her brother and Bolan. "It's too bad we didn't have you here earlier, Sergeant. You could have whipped these men into real shape for us."
"They'll do as is," Thomas protested.
Tanya sighed impatiently. "No one's questioning your ability as a trainer, Thomas. But Sergeant Grendal has had more experience in this sort of thing."
"Of course," Thomas acknowledged.
Bolan wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. "Well, I still might be interested in training them after today. We could work out a price per head, or maybe I could make you a deal on the whole lot."
Tanya smiled. "You never quit, do you? If there's a dollar to be made, you're in there pitching."
"Yeah, well, I'm just a small businessman trying to make a living."
"Naturally," Thomas nodded. "But after today we will no longer require your services. Once our mission is successful, we will pay you a reasonable fee for your work and then drop you off in Mannheim."
"And after that," Tanya added, "you're on your own."
"Suits me," Bolan smiled. "Just one question. I'd like to have an idea what I'm risking my neck for."
Tanya nodded at her brother and he began to speak, pacing slightly as he did. "The key, of course, Sergeant Grendal, is to have the most possible impact for the least possible exertion. The best way to achieve this is to show the world we mean business in a big way."
"Such as?"
"Such at killing several hundred people at once. A large bomb of some sort would be most effective, perhaps in a movie theater, or a hospital." He stopped, gnawed on a stubborn thumbnail, and continued. "But as terrifying as random bombings are, they don't have the impact that will make our Soviet and Arab friends sit up and take notice. So my sister came up with an even better idea." he said creepily. "We bought some interesting information two months ago, probably originally sold by someone not unlike yourself."
"Yes," Tanya added, "unscrupulous and money-grubbing."
"The information cost us dearly, most of what we'd saved after the last three robberies. But it was worth it." He paused to smile mysteriously. "We have learned that today, in just..." he looked at his watch "...six hours and twenty-seven minutes, your army will begin transporting a certain deadly shipment for delivery to a NATO research base in Hamburg. The cargo yellow rain."
Bolan's face tensed, his teeth clenched hard.
He could feel a chill working its way along his neck and through his scalp. "Are you crazy? That stuff's bad news. Unless you know exactly what you're doing, it will backfire on you."
"We aren't afraid," Tanya said.
"Then you're not too smart," Bolan shot back. "Maybe you don't know enough to be scared. Just ask some of the people in Laos and Afghanistan, where your Soviet mentors tried it out. Ask them about the choking, the blood vessels that burst inside you so that the whole body becomes a huge hemorrhage. It's one of the most agonizing deaths ever devised. And that's the stuff you want to fool around with?"