Explosive Demand by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2013-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The hunt for Solyenko, as Bolan had predicted, had been delayed for the length of a whole day, not because the Royal Malaysian Police were reluctant to believe Matt McCormack’s and Zach Winslow’s credentials, nor was it because they didn’t believe the U.S. Justice Department and Homeland Security, who had phoned in immediately to inform them of the covert operation on their soil.

It all had to do with Bolan, Winslow and Erra Majid’s debriefing, which had taken a while. Fortunately, in the time leading up to this conflict, Bolan had spent hours, less with Majid, going over what to tell the local authorities about what had occurred and what they had done. The Executioner was able to pass off the vast majority of the conflict and the damage that ensued on an internecine conflict between Solyenko and Onn. They also took the effort and energy to minimize Onn’s compliance in the most violent of activities.

It was easy to backtrack their cover story, as it was Solyenko who had supplied Onn’s nightclub security with the assault rifles. Their story was ninety percent true, and ensured that the gang boss was going to avoid a death sentence for treason or support of terrorism. For that, Onn was grateful, but he still maintained that he intended to do everything he could to inform on the Russian mafiya and its operations inside Malaysia, especially the Western Peninsula.

Bolan was exhausted, as were his partners, after hours of interviews. Fortunately the three of them had been well fed and given beverages to keep their strength up. Finally, however, it was time for them to clean up, and the soldier stepped under the hot spray of the showerhead. A hot shower was something that rejuvenated him in a way that few other things could. He recalled his dalliance with the bush pilot in Colombia—Magdelena—and thought that was another great means of rejuvenation. A hot shower, scrubbing the grime of exertion away, then sex, was about as fine an aftermath of a mission as he could conceive.

It was here, naked, shielded by a locked door, with steamy wisps of humidity rising around him, that Bolan allowed himself a flight of fancy. He stepped into the shower stall, and as he did physically, he mentally scoured away the dread and doubt, all of the bad that had built up between his ears. He willed himself to sublimate the images of violence and suffering, pushing himself deeper into a healing ritual. Without this meditation, this mind and body maintenance, the Executioner wouldn’t have been able to continue so long.

Like a computer’s hard drive that became cluttered with file fragments, the shower ritual helped him to put his thoughts in order and to shove the unwanted fragments aside, turned to trash after every bit of useful experience was drained from it. He allowed emotions to free themselves, let himself mourn lives lost, memories of friendly dead be buried. With the stream of droplets slashing down his face, he couldn’t cry.

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