Don Pendleton
Blood Testament
No real friendship is ever made without an initial clashing, which discloses the metal of each to each.
Between friends there is no need for justice.
Justice matters, sure. But this time out it's one for friendship's sake.
Prologue
The public park was deserted at this hour, and still the tall man's eyes kept roving, following the occasional passing car intently until it disappeared from sight. Uncertain that he and his companion couldn't be seen where they stood in the shadow of a huge oak, his gaze continued to probe the darkened areas of the park for possible signs of unwanted human presence.
Although his vigilance was a trait born of years of conditioning, he berated himself for this sudden case of nerves. After all, it was he who had chosen the site for the midnight rendezvous.
The tall man's nervousness did not seem to faze the stocky figure standing before him. Nick, his companion had asked to be called during the phone conversation. The tall man wondered briefly if Nick was enjoying his discomfiture, and that, coupled with the apparent lack of concern over what they were about to do, made the tall man angry.
"It's set," Nick said, the first to speak.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course, I'm sure."
The cockiness in Nick's voice grated on the tall man's overwrought nerves and it would have pleased him to reach out and lock his fingers around that greasy throat, cut off the bastard's breath, but he couldn't afford to do that. Yet.
"You better get it right."
"Hey! Cam, wasn't it? Don't threaten me, see? Or you can fucking well do the job yourself."
Anger intensified inside the tall man until he stifled it with sheer force of will. "Okay, okay, don't get uptight, Nick."
"That's better. We'll handle our end just fine. Trust me."
Trust me, Cam mimicked in his mind. "I really shouldn't be involved in this at all."
"You've been involved from the beginning, hotshot, and don't forget it." The other's voice was insolent, before it turned to stone. "We godown, you're coming with us, you and all your buddies.''
Angry silence hung between them for a moment, stretching paper-thin before Nick's voice sliced through it, softer now, and filled with counterfeit concern. "You're worried someone's going to make you on this thing, huh?"
"It's possible."
"What kind of ship you running over there, Cam? I thought you guys keep it strictly need-to-know.''
"There's no such thing as absolute security."
"You better hope there is. One slip on this, we all go up in smoke."
Cam had been acutely conscious of the risks from the beginning, which was not to say that he had been presented with a choice. It was a question of survival, plain and simple, with the choices narrowed down to do or die. He had been forced to take a stand, and once committed, there could be no turning back.
"I'm holding up my end."
"I know you are. We're counting on you, Cam." The phony confidence and camaraderie were sickening. "How are you handling the disposal?"
His companion tried for a smile, and in the gloom it resembled a grimace that reminded him of hungry crocodiles.
"We've got our ways. They worked before."
"You've never bagged this kind of game before."
The tall man felt the old familiar tightness in his stomach, acid fingers worming upward through his chest to lock around his heart. The ulcers had been gnawing at him for a month, but he would have to live with it until the job had been carried through to its conclusion, one way or the other. He stopped himself. It had to be only one way if he intended to survive the coming storm. They would succeed, or they would die. The world would not be large enough to hide them if they failed.
"Let me worry about that," Nick said. Then, in a twinkling, the voice was dripping ice. "But you better not be fucking me."
"You're not my type."
"I'll tell you what type I am, in case your memory's been fogging over lately. Let's say that someone was to try and jerk me on a deal that I've been working on for better than a year. Let's say someone didn't hold his end up in a crunch."
"Let's say."
"I can't imagine anywhere on earth this bastard would be safe, capisce? It's like little Bobby used to say: I don't get mad, I just get even. You remember Bobby, don't you, Cam?"
The tall man nodded. He remembered Bobby, sure. And Jack, as well. The years had been unable to erase their memory.
"Good. I wouldn't want you coming up with any second thoughts along the way."
"No second thoughts," he echoed, feeling like a straw man with his guts on fire.
"So, I'll be hearing from you, then?"
"This weekend."
"Beautiful. I'm looking forward to it, Cam. It's been a long time coming."
Like a lifetime, the tall man thought, shuddering involuntarily, and glad for the darkness. He only hoped that there would be a lifetime after, that he would be able to find a place among the living. The alternative was nonexistence, and he wasn't up for that. Not yet. He had too much to lose.
And he was risking all of it.
The tall man took in the surroundings once more, amazed at the serenity of the manicured suburbs. A storm was brewing while West Virginia slept, and when it broke he would be in its eye.
1
"Enjoy your weekend."
Hal Brognola glanced up from his open briefcase and returned his secretary's smile. "Still here?"
"I'm playing catch-up with the files."
"Forget it. You can get it done on Monday." Putting on a phony scowl, he told her gruffly, "Anyway, we can't afford the overtime."
"You talked me into it. Good night."
He spun the combination lock on his valise and double-checked his watch against the ugly, standard-issue wall clock opposite his desk. It was approaching six o'clock, and he was running late. As usual.
Without a backward glance he put the place behind him, fighting an urge to click his heels. The three-day weekend beckoned irresistibly, but Hal had more than simple rest and relaxation on his mind. The kids and Helen would be on the road by now, perhaps already at their destination, waiting for him. Anxious to be with them, he signed out, leaving the number where he could be reached in case of an emergency.
It had been too damned long since he and his family had any time together, free from work, school and the countless other things that separate a man, unwillingly, from those he loves. Despite the fact that he had been with Helen almost every day and night for twenty-seven years, he never saw enough of her. As for the kids...
Brognola stopped himself and grinned unconsciously. The "kids" were both in college now, adults with lives and secrets of their own. The man from Justice was intensely proud of them, secure in their maturity and sense of purpose, but experience had taught him that the world was dangerous, full of predators relentlessly in search of prey. Their mother worried openly — it was a woman's inalienable right — but gender and his temperament prevented Hal from expressing his concerns aloud. He had no doubt that Helen was aware of his private fears — she could see through him, always had — but she was generous enough to keep the knowledge locked away. When Jeff went out for football, when Eileen wrote home about the great new guy that she was dating, Helen clucked and frowned and voiced her hope that they would each proceed with caution. Hal, for his part, grumbled that the kids were old enough to take care of themselves and hid his concern behind the pages of the Post or New York Times— hid his concern from everyone except Helen, who missed nothing.