The Killing Rule

Jennings was reduced to stuttering. “I…I…”

Lord William prodded the man with his PPK. “Good lad. I knew we could work this out.”

CHAPTER SIX

Bolan vainly wished Kurtzman or Akira Tokaido was on hand. He sat before the computer in Clive Jennings’s office and knew he was a little out of his league. The room looked more like a command center than the executive office of a small, highly specialized consulting company. Lord William peered about with a frown on his face. “Made some changes then, have you, Clive?”

Jennings glared and said nothing. He sat in the chair opposite his desk with Lunk standing behind him. The Welshman held his .357 loosely in one massive paw and had made it very clear on the short walk down the hall and up the stairs to the office he would pistol whip Jennings repeatedly with the gun if he tried anything.

Lord William waved his PPK at the flat-screen monitor. “So, how are you and the old ‘devil in a box’ getting on, then?”

Bolan took out his PDA. Like his laptop, it, too, was a product of Akira Tokaido’s cybernetic skill and would qualify as a supercomputer. “This isn’t my strong suit. I can probably hack in, but I’ll have to be walked through it, and it’ll take time. Time we don’t have.” Bolan turned to Jennings. “Give me your passwords and codes.”

Jennings’s jaw set.

A second later his head rubbernecked as Lunk’s open hand slammed against his ear. Jennings’s defiant look turned into a grimace of agony. Bolan had to admire Lunk’s style. It took a deft touch to box a man’s ear that hard without shattering the eardrum.

Lord William sighed. “Clive, despite all you’ve done, this isn’t personal between us. You took my company from me, but as far as I can tell you did it fair and square. Easy come, easy go, the better man won. All that jolly rot. However, to quote your earlier remark, I believe you’re up to something. There’s something rotten afoot, and I think you are at least aiding and abetting it if not actively involved. I dislike torture, so, let me state for the record you will not be tortured. What will happen is this—Mr. Cooper and I will leave the room for a moment, and in our absence you are going to have a fight with Lunk.”

Jennings flinched and involuntarily brought a hand up to his ear.

“Keep your bloody hand down,” Lunk rumbled.

Jennings’s hand fell into his lap like a dead bird.

“It will be a fair fight,” Lord William continued. “Barehanded, man-to-man, as God intended. After a minute or two, Mr. Cooper and I will return to this office and ask you once more for your passwords and codes. Should you persist in your obstinate ways, you will have another fight with Lunk, and then another, and another. This process will continue until you come to see reason. Do you understand?”

Veins began pulsing in Jennings’s temples. Lord William sighed impatiently. “Lunk, keep him conscious, don’t break his fingers or his jaw. We’ll be needing him typing and talking I should think.”

Jennings snarled through clenched teeth. “What do you want first?”

Bolan considered going file by file, gleaning out the relevant information, but that would take time and despite the fear in Jennings’s eyes he didn’t trust the man. There could be data deletion programs infesting the computer. However good Jennings’s defenses were, Bolan was willing to bet they were not up to the Akira Tokaido’s standard. He connected his PDA to an open port on the computer. “Download your entire hard drive.”

Jennings blinked. “Into that?”

Bolan’s PDA probably had ten times the computing capability of Jennings’s entire computer suite but he didn’t bother explaining. “Do it.”

Lunk slid Jennings’s chair around the desk, rammed him in front of the computer. “You heard the Yank.”

Jennings’s hands hovered, trembling over the keyboard. Bolan leaned in and peered into his eyes. “Forget Lunk. Do it or deal with me.”

Jennings flinched. What he suddenly saw in Bolan’s burning blue eyes was far more frightening than a beating at the big Welshman’s hands. He typed in letters and numbers, and files began to transfer into Bolan’s PDA. Jennings jumped in his seat as Lord William punched him in the shoulder in a comradely fashion. “Good lad! I knew you’d see reason.”

Grietje’s voice spoke across the intercom. “Mr. Jennings? Mr. Van der Beers has called to confirm lunch this afternoon.”

Lunk’s huge hand covered the speaker. He and Lord William both looked to Bolan, who nodded to Jennings. “Tell her you’ll be a few minutes late, but lunch is on.”

Jennings spoke as Lunk uncovered the intercom. “Lord William has brought some unexpected business to my attention. Tell Van der Beers I’ll be a little late, but we’re a green light for lunch.”

“A green light. Yes, Mr. Jennings.”

The intercom clicked off. Bolan screwed the muzzle of his PPK into Jennings’s temple. “Green light. That’s the signal for what? Intruders? Lockdown?”

Jennings stared up at Bolan with renewed purpose. “The police have been alerted. I suggest you leave while you still can.”

“Blow his brains out,” Lord William suggested.

A phone to one side of the desk rang. Bolan recognized the receiver as a satellite link. Jennings jerked and stared at the sat link in horror. “No,” Bolan said. “He’s going to answer that phone.”

“No, I’m—”

“Do it or I’ll kill you.”

Jennings stared once more into Bolan’s eyes and whatever recidivist bravery he had summoned wavered. He and Bolan both knew he was one pound away on a cocked, two-pound trigger toward death.

“I—”

The phone chimed.

“Do it,” Bolan ordered.

“But—”

“You’re out of time.” Bolan pulled the pistol away from Jennings’s temple and pointed it at the Englishman’s face.

“No!” Jennings lunged for the satellite phone.

Lunk’s paws slammed down on his shoulders. “Compose yourself.”

Jennings took a shuddering breath.

“Better.” Bolan nodded. “Put it on speakerphone.”

Jennings pressed a button on the link. A deep, British upper-class voice came across the speaker. “Clive, we need to talk.”

Bolan watched Clive’s face closely. He’d broken into a sweat.

“I agree,” Jennings replied.

“Listen,” the voice continued. “I’ve spoken with our counterparts in the East. We are in agreement. We need to step up the timetable.”

Jennings looked like he might throw up.

Lord William cocked his head. Clearly something about the voice was familiar. Jennings got that staring-into-the-middle-distance, everything-unraveling look on his face again. He opened his mouth and then closed it again.

“I say,” the voice said. “Clive, are you there?”

Bolan silently mouthed the words “keep talking” at Clive.