The Destroyer - 91 - The Destroyer 091 - Cold Warrior by Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir

Author:Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir [Murphy, Warren & Sapir, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Pulp Action
ISBN: 9780451174840
Publisher: PINNACLE BOOKS
Published: 1993-01-18T00:00:00+00:00

The cart went nose-first into a wall and turned over, pinning the driver.

Remo took the left-hand tunnel, saying, "Nice job."

"Director, we have a problem," said Captain Maus.

"Solve it," said the Director, making the face on the computer screen revolve on an imaginary axis. His signature revolved with it, became alternately readable, a thin stitching of electronics and reversed. He frowned.

"How do you get this thing to freeze the signature?"

"Director, the unknowns have just decapitated a soldier."

The Director turned and looked up. The screen showed the overturned utility vehicle and the quivering mess that had been the guard.

The Director sniffed, "I've seen worse," and returned to his play. If this operation was to succeed, these snot-noses would have to learn to solve the little problems for themselves.

As the tunnel walls whipped by, Remo Williams was saying, "I figure this for a military installation, probably funded by ultra-right-wing Cubans out to topple Fidel. There's probably an orange grove or something over our heads. It's the perfect cover."

"I do not understand this 'wing' thing," Chiun complained.

"Our ultra left wing is the same as Cuba's ultra right wing."

"Thank you for enlightening me. Not."

Remo shrugged.

"All we need is to find the big cheese, wring some truth out of him, and contact Smith," he said. "Smith will tell us if we take down this place or leave it to the Marines."

They passed side tunnels every few yards. Brief glimpses showed white-uniformed soldiers pushing white-handled push brooms.

"Whoever runs this place must have a mania for cleanliness," Remo said.

"There is nothing wrong with that," Chiun sniffed.

"You'd think, since they know we're here, they'd have the place on alert. But I don't see any signs of panic."

"The answer to that conundrum is obvious."

"Yeah? Explain it to an ex-Marine then."

"The overlord of this vault does not yet know he has allowed Sinanju into his lair."

The way was suddenly blocked by two rows of white-uniformed soldiers.

"But he's about to find out," Remo muttered, bringing the utility vehicle to a slow stop.

"Halt, please," ordered a soldier.

Remo lifted empty hands off the steering wheel. "Too late. We already did. Next order?"

"Dismount, please."

"We under arrest, or just prisoners?"

Rifle safeties latched off.

"You will please dismount instantly."

"Ride's over, Little Father," said Remo, stepping off the truck.

The Master of Sinanju stepped away from the vehicle as well.

They were surrounded at riflepoint.

"Last guys who did that to us ended up with their trigger fingers in splints," Remo offered in the way of friendly information.

"Place your hands atop your heads, please."

"Since you're all so polite I guess we can't say no, can we Little Father?"

"We will allow them to keep their fingers," Chiun said thinly. "For now."

They placed their hands atop their heads. Remo took a moment to scrutinize the faces surrounding them. The men all had a fresh, well-scrubbed look, like Boy Scouts coming into early manhood. The weapons at their shoulders were American-made Colt AR-15s. Purchasable at many sporting-goods stores. There was no hint of ethnicity in any of the faces. In fact, they looked corn-fed, most of them.

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