Blood Vendetta

“Seems a little counterproductive, this whole shooting-people-then-tending-to-their-wounds thing,” McCarter said.

Bolan shrugged. “Made a deal with the guy. Not sure he deserved to live, but I made a deal. I don’t think he’s going to bother anybody for a while. MI5 was going to send in a cleanup team, take him to a hospital. They’ll extradite him.”

“So we can shoot him again, at another time in another place.”

“Gives us something to look forward to,” Bolan said.

“True that.”

By this point, the soldier and McCarter had reached the line of glass doors leading into the tower’s lobby. Despite the hour, the revolving door spun easily, spitting Bolan, then McCarter, into the lobby. A handful of men and women, well-groomed professional people in suits, strode purposefully in a dozen different directions through the lobby. This didn’t surprise Bolan. The Russian had told him that Malakov ran a massive energy-and-stock futures operation on the building’s first two floors. With the staff making trades globally, people populated the building around the clock.

A pair of burly men togged in navy blue sport coats, gray slacks and red ties were seated behind an information desk that stood in the middle of the lobby. The Stony Man warriors approached the desk. The guards, who’d been talking, fell silent and looked at Bolan and McCarter.

“Help you?” the younger man asked.

“Have some documents to drop off,” McCarter said. He patted his briefcase to emphasize the point.

“Documents for who?”

“Apex Trading,” McCarter said. “On the twenty-second floor.”

“I know what floor it’s on,” the man said. “Who at Apex?”

“Ed Haggar.” Kurtzman had grabbed the names with an internet search and fed them to Bolan.

The young man shook his head. “Don’t know him.”