Doom Prophecy. Don PendletonЧитать онлайн книгу.
elite cybernetics crew, Delahunt managed to keep her fiery temper cooled in relation to the atrocities that she encountered on a daily basis. She had a sense of satisfaction in the knowledge that her computer wizardry enabled the two action teams of the Farm to go out and strike blows for justice against the predators of the world.
But Amanda was personal.
“This is Houston control to Carmen, come in.” Hermann “Gadgets” Schwarz’s voice cut through her daze. She turned and looked at the friendly, mustached face.
She pursed her lips, sending a command for a smile, but not quite making it. “Hi, Gadgets. You’re not with Carl?”
“Ironman wanted to do the cop thing, and he thought Pol and I would only get underfoot,” Schwarz answered.
Delahunt raised an eyebrow, wondering if he was telling the truth. It was likely, Carl Lyons had a tendency to engage in a bit of lone wolf activity, but she sensed that Schwarz and his partner, Rosario “Politician” Blancanales, were with her for another reason. Even as her suspicions were raised, she already noticed the nondescript, massive frame of a Secret Service command center truck in the parking lot.
“You think that Ka55andra might make a move here?” Delahunt asked.
“You caught me in a lie, Carm,” Schwarz said, shaking his head.
Blancanales made his way through the crowd toward the duo. He looked around before speaking. “This place has the potential to be a security nightmare.”
Schwarz shrugged. “It looks like the convention center staff is handling things well enough.”
“Sure, they can handle a rowdy crowd, and maybe a few creeps with switchblades. Maybe even someone with a .38 and an urge to blow away Bill Gates,” Blancanales noted. “But against someone…”
Able Team’s diplomatic Puerto Rican glanced at to Delahunt.
“You’re talking about the freak show that killed my best friend and her company staff,” she answered.
Blancanales nodded. “They’ll blow through this place like a tornado through a trailer park.”
“We just have to figure out when and where,” Schwarz replied.
“And who,” Blancanales added.
“Well, the President, and the deputy director of the Department of Homeland Security, Riddley Mott, are going to be appearing here Saturday,” Delahunt confirmed.
“Mott?” Schwarz asked. He threw a glance to Blancanales.
“Yeah,” Delahunt answered.
“He was in the Special Forces,” Blancanales said.
“We worked with him on a couple operations,” Schwarz added. “But even back then, he was a pompous, know-it-all ass.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard you guys grumbling about him when he was hired to the position of deputy director,” Delahunt answered.
“I’ll never forget the time he started into you for your parents being ‘wetbacks,’” Schwarz said to Blancanales.
“It was all Mack could do to keep me from pounding Mott to a pulp right then and there. I didn’t care if I got thrown in the brig. I was born in Puerto Rico, but my parents risked their lives to bring me to a country where I could grow up in a better place,” Blancanales replied. “My father and mother worked hard to become legitimate citizens after getting here, and I joined the Army as a way of repaying my new country. Me, a wetback?”
“It’s cool, Pol,” Schwarz began.
“Sorry, Gadgets,” Blancanales answered.
“He certainly cleaned up his act once he’d gotten into politics. He must have worked his ass off covering up all the stories about his old life,” Carmen stated. “Right now, he’s as bulletproof as you can get. A true-blue American patriot.”
“Yeah. Remember my nickname,” Blancanales said. “Politician. Not just because of my diplomacy, but because I could put on a second face and prance around completely in character. If I came up to you tomorrow, in a full beard and my head as clean as the bottom of a bowl, I could have you going for an hour before I let you recognize me.”
Blancanales glanced toward the auditorium stage through the double doors. “Mott’s an actor, too. Except, he’s acting to save his ass. If people knew what a total jerk he was…”
“He wouldn’t have a job at the top of one of the biggest federal agencies in America,” Schwarz concluded. “An agency which, if it wanted, could squish the Farm if we got into his face.”
Blancanales frowned. “We never shirked away from doing the right thing before because the enemy was too powerful. And Striker never backed down, either.”
Delahunt nodded. “Pol, if we find anything out that’s fishy about Mott, we’ll bring him down. But right now, we’re supposed to be protecting the Department of Homeland Security.”
“Yeah, well, I thought the goal of the guy who proposed it was to decrease the size of government, not create a bloated bureaucracy,” Blancanales muttered.
“We can’t do everything by ourselves,” Schwarz answered.
“Yeah, but you’d think that American law enforcement could coordinate without this petty jurisdictional bullshit,” Blancanales quipped.
“The day that happens, I’ll hang up my shotgun,” a new voice cut in. The Able pair looked to their commander, Carl Lyons.
“Hey, Ironman,” Schwarz greeted.
“What is this? Point/Counterpoint?” Lyons asked.
“Just reminiscing about an old buddy of Pol’s and mine, Riddley Mott.”
“Oh, yeah, he was in the Special Forces, too,” Lyons said. He paused and looked at Delahunt. For a moment, his gruff exterior softened. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.
Delahunt looked up and smiled weakly. “Yeah, Carl, thanks.”
Lyons nodded.
“Listen, I’m going to my room and hop on the laptop. I want to see what Bear and the others have going,” Delahunt told them.
“Wait,” Lyons said. He handed her a few scraps of notebook paper. “I took impressions of bullet casings used in the massacre, and I have a list of likely suspects.”
“You do? But the police weren’t able to identify them yet.”
“No, they don’t have pictures from any security cameras, but they had descriptions. That, and their style at the crime scene gave me a strong hunch,” Lyons said.
Delahunt read the names. “Linn Keller. Jacob Cannon. David Lee Haggar. These are some pretty heavy hitters on the FBI’s most-wanted list.”
“I know,” Lyons answered. “I keep up to date on that. Have Bear run some checks to see if I’m barking up the right tree.”
“Knowing you, you’re probably dead on,” Delahunt said. “I’ll fax these over.”
“Thanks.”
She headed back to the hotel while Blancanales and Schwarz only looked at him.
“What?” the blond ex-cop asked.
“We’re just wondering who you are and what you did with the real Carl Lyons,” Blancanales said first.
“I’m betting it’s pod aliens,” Schwarz chimed in.
“You always think it’s pod aliens,” Blancanales returned.
“All right, all right, enough grab-assing,” Lyons snapped.
“Ah, he’s back to normal,” Blancanales said.
“Temporary