Resurgence by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2011-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Washington, D.C.

HAL BROGNOLA TOOK the call from Savona, a seaport in the province of Liguria, where Bolan and Natalia Volkova had stopped for fuel, maybe some food to keep them going on the road. Hal didn’t ask for details, being more concerned with what they’d left behind in France, and what might lie ahead of them.

“The National Police are buzzing like a nest of hornets,” he told Bolan. “It’s a lucky thing you’re out of there.”

“I guess they’re covering for Mercier?” Bolan asked.

“Not directly,” Brognola replied. “But no one’s pushing any news about him being dirty, either. Not yet, anyway. I’ve got somebody talking to La Provence in Marseille, and to Le Figaro in Paris. In another day or so, the story should be getting out.”

“Whatever,” Bolan said. “They won’t be seeing us again.”

Brognola shrugged, despite the fact that there was no one in his office to observe it. “Anything that I can do, I’m putting in the fix. We may have business with the French some other time.”

“I’m thinking of Italians at the moment,” Bolan said.

“You should be. Looking at Berisha’s contacts, he’s got friends all over. Some of them likely remember other times that you were on their turf.”

“Any specific friends we ought to be concerned about right now?” Bolan asked.

“Berisha’s people don’t discriminate if they can turn a profit, but their closest ally these days is the Camorra out of Naples. From what I understand, at least a couple of Camorra members went all out and married sisters of Berisha’s men.”

“All in the family,” said Bolan.

“That’s the ticket. Naples is the heart of the Camorra’s territory—some people I’ve talked to claim it makes Palermo look like Disney World—but members turn up anywhere there’s money to be made. Think England, Germany, Nigeria, Brazil, Québec. Don’t even get me started on the States.”

“That must be agitating the Sicilians,” Bolan offered.

“Not as much as you’d expect,” Brognola said. “Of course they’ve got the blood thing going on, but some of that’s been changing. We hear rumors of crossovers. Half a dozen guys, at least, supposedly have taken oaths to both groups.”

“Makes it dicey if they go to war again,” Bolan said.

“Maybe they go home and shoot themselves,” Hal said. “Save time and grief for everybody else.”

“That would be nice,” Bolan agreed.

Brognola changed directions. “What I meant to say is, watch yourself no matter where you are in Italy. Berisha’s got long arms, and every mile you cover puts you closer to him, where his friends are thickest on the ground. Trust nobody, all right?”

“I hear you,” Bolan said.

“Speaking of strangers, how’s the Russian doing?” the big Fed inquired.

“Pulling her weight, and then some.”

“Right. You know the FSB has serious internal problems. One of its lieutenant colonels was indicted last year for the murder of a journalist who criticized their president.”

“I heard,” Bolan replied.

“And if it’s rotten at the top…”

“I’ve got my eyes wide-open,” Bolan reassured him.

“Sure. I know that. This is just me fretting over what’s gone wrong so far. Listen—”

“You’ve already apologized for Mercier,” Bolan reminded Brognola.

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