The man reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of Camels. He tapped one free and extended it to Eli.
"Thanks," Eli said, stepping back outside. He fumbled in his coat for a lighter. The guard snapped his own lighter, and Eli bent into the flame. "I hear they got a girl locked up someplace inside."
"Yeah. Good-looking broad, too. Wish to hell I pulled guard duty on her instead of standing around in the cold."
"Who is she?"
"I don't know. They got her on Level 4 someplace. Way to hell and gone downstairs. David Lawrence is watching her. If I know David, though, he's doing more than watching her, you know?"
The guard never heard Bolan move in behind him.
The big guy locked an arm around the man's neck.
With a swift jerk, he snapped it. The dead man dangled just briefly in Bolan's grip, then Giancana dragged him into the shadows.
"Okay, Tony." Stevens said, "You wait here for Daniels and Grissom. As soon as they get here, move in. We'll be on Level 4. Once we get Rachel out, we'll need all the help we can get taking the control room."
Bolan and Stevens joined Cohen inside the building. The concrete floor echoed hollowly under their feet. Bolan was silent. Glinkov would be in the main control room, he knew. The dim lighting in the broad corridors was almost ghostly. Everything in the plant was built on such a colossal scale that he felt insignificant.
"Come on, she's on Level 4. Let's go." The three men rushed to the elevator bank.
Bolan and Cohen each pressed the down button at the same time, their thumbs colliding. The elevator took a long time to arrive. Its slow climb marked on the bank of lights gave Cohen time to think. The cameras had show at least two guards. The attack force had been spread rather thin, so he doubted there would be more. On the other hand, where the hell was everybody?
"Something's wrong."
"What?"
"I don't know. But I don't like the way it smells."
Of the remaining men, he had seen only three, one at the outside door and one at the control room door. That left more than a dozen men unaccounted for.
Before he had a satisfactory explanation, the elevator arrived. They stepped inside. Cohen pressed the button for Level 4 and walked to the rear of the large car. Then it hit him. It was a setup. Some of the others were below. Glinkov didn't trust him.
"That's it. Mack, it's a trap. I knew it was too easy. I couldn't figure out where everybody was. Now I know. They're waiting for us down there."
"No, Eli. They're waiting for you. They don't know Matt and I are here. That gives us the edge. Let's take advantage of it."
When the elevator reached the lowest level of the plant, the door opened with a soft sigh. Eli stepped cautiously into the corridor. To the left, there was nothing. To the right, he could see the dim outlines of several doors along the near wall. The opposite wall was blank. He waved Bolan and Stevens out.
"Eli," Bolan whispered, "wait here. Give Matt and me two minutes. We'll work around to the other side. When you get to the guards, make sure they're both watching you. We'll hit them from behind."
Eli nodded. Bolan and Stevens turned to the left and sprinted down the next passage. Eli counted the seconds. The hands of his watch barely seemed to move. Finally the two minutes were up.
Slowly, keeping close to the wall, he headed down the corridor. In the dim light he couldn't see very far ahead.
The first door on the right was closed. Cohen opened it with a turn of the knob. The room was pitch-black.
He felt for a light switch. When it clicked on, the room was bathed by flickering fluorescent illumination. It was an office of some kind, empty except for its furniture. Cohen walked on to the next doorway. Another empty office. And another. Six in all. There was a long blank space. At its far end, barely discernible in the dim light, was the figure of a man.
He walked more quickly now, approaching the guard with a confidence he didn't really have.
"Rachel Peres around here anywhere?" The guard tilted his head to the door beyond.
Beyond the guard, he couldn't see the second sentry. It puzzled him, but there was no time to worry about it.
And beyond the guard, Cohen saw Matt Stevens.
And the Executioner. Mack Bolan reached into his coat for the Beretta. It was risky, but there was no choice. Eli Cohen knelt to tie his bootlace.
With a clear shot, Bolan squeezed. The Beretta coughed. The slug bored through the guard's temple.
Blood sprayed over Cohen's neck and hands.
Catching the slumping body before it fell, he placed the dead man against the base of the wall. The door was closed. He turned the knob and pushed the door open. It was dark inside. As with the other offices, he reached for a light switch. Nothing happened.
Cautiously Cohen stepped into the dark room.
"Rachel? Are you here? Rachel?"
Silence. He could hear his own breathing, coming faster and faster. His mouth was dry. Something was very wrong. As he moved slowly forward, he reached out blindly with his hands, waving them back and forth until he finally found something. It felt like a desk.
Carefully he groped along the edge of the desktop. His fingers encountered a wire, which he followed to the base of a desk lamp. He depressed the push-button switch. There was a brief glimmer, more darkness, then a flash of light.
Four men stood behind the desk. Their weapons were pointed directly at him.
This was going to be tougher than he thought.
26
Mack Bolan and Matt Stevens held their breath. When Cohen flicked on the light, its blaze cast a stark white rectangle on the corridor floor. The sudden blaze was followed by silence. Something was wrong.
"Fancy meeting you here." The voice belonged to Eli Cohen.
He wasn't talking to Rachel. Bolan eased closer to the doorway. He couldn't risk charging the room unless he had an idea where Cohen was.
On the opposite side of the door, Stevens fingered his rifle nervously.
"You know, Cohen, I never did like you." The voice was low and rasping, full of Hollywood menace a wise guy putting on a show for his buddies.
"The four of you never did much for me, either," Cohen said. He was raising his voice just slightly.
Bolan smiled. Eli was telling him what he needed to know.
"I guess those AK-47's make you big deals, huh?" Cohen continued.
"Hey, Bobby," another voice joined in. "What are we wasting time for? Why don't we get it over with? I don't like it down here."
When Bolan got through, he'd like it a lot less.
"What, exactly, is it that you have to finish?" Cohen's tone was mocking. He wanted to get them on edge, but knew he couldn't push them too far too soon. "You know, you guys won't make it out of here, no matter what happens to me."
"Says who?" Bobby demanded. "You?"
"Not me, no. But think about it for a minute. Who are you working for? Not Peter Achison. He's a gofer just like you. The Russian is pulling your strings. And when he's got what he wants, he's gonna cut them. Dead."
"No way, man. When we finish here, it's gonna be hot sun and sandy beaches for me."
"I wouldn't count on it. You never know where you're gonna wash up once you're cut loose."
"Let's just grease the bastard and get on with it," a third voice said.
"Shut up, everybody. Cohen, put your gun on the floor. Slowly. Then turn around." Bobby must have sensed the play slipping away from him. He was trying to force things back into his control.
Bolan heard the clink of the Ingram on the concrete floor. He moved. Wheeling back away from the door, he sprayed hellfire into the room.
Eli was bent over, and the bullets skimmed just over his stooped form. At the first sound, he dived for a corner of the room, rolled once and slammed into the wall.