The next obstacle would be the Jeep patrols.
There were four of them, and each had to be captured and replaced. The best place to handle the switch would be at the back gate. Eli would handle it. Anything, an employee going home sick, an unexpected delivery, hell, even a routine late shift arrival, could upset their plans.
Achison checked his watch again. Glinkov would be here any minute. And Parsons. Wait until the bastard found out what was in store for him. Louis roared off to let Cohen and his men in. At the rear entrance he hopped from the Jeep, fumbled with the keys and finally unlocked the gate. Cohen waited in the trees until the gate swung open. The next patrol was due any minute.
"Louis, you and David stay with the Jeep. Put the hood up, like you're having trouble. We'll be in the trees. When the patrol gets here, get the drop on them. We'll back you up. We'll take all the guards out the same way. As soon as that's done, bring the rest of the men to the guardhouse."
"Right."
It worked to perfection. The surprised guards were stripped, bound and gagged, then dragged into the trees.
Two of Cohen's men replaced them in the Jeep and moved off. Cohen thought it ironic that, having taken control of the power station, they had also taken on the responsibility to protect it.
"Louis," Cohen said, "I'm leaving you in charge. I have to talk to Peter. Handle the rest of the teams the same way. When you've nailed them all, meet me at the guardhouse. Got it?"
"Sure thing."
Cohen sprinted off toward the guardhouse, keeping toward the trees to avoid the next patrol. He reached the gate just as a car pulled through. It was Glinkov and Parsons, but where the hell was Rachel?
Glinkov got out of the car as Achison locked the gate. It would not open again. "Peter, I see everything is under control. Mr. Parsons ought to watch you carefully. He might learn a few things."
Achison laughed. Parsons might learn something, all right. But it wouldn't do him any good. "How did things go on your end, Andrey?"
"Very well. Malcolm took care of Mr. Reynolds for us. Very neatly, I might add."
Cohen rounded the corner of the guardhouse.
Glinkov spotted him first. "Eli, any trouble?"
"No. Everything is going according to plan."
"Good. I have Mr. Parsons, as you can see. The next phase should go rather well, I should think."
"It should. As soon as the perimeter is secured, we better start rounding up the staff. There should be about thirty people on duty tonight. They're spread out, so we'll have to be careful. One reactor's down and one's still under construction. Unit 1 is the only one operating tonight. We'll take the main control room first. From there we can monitor communications and make sure we keep a lid on this until we've consolidated our control."
"Very good. I'll leave that to you then. But I have something else I want you to handle first."
"What's that?"
"A little package in the trunk. It might come in handy later, I should think." Glinkov handed him the keys. "Open the trunk, Eli."
Cohen, curious, did as he was told. "What the hell is she doing here?"
Fortunately Rachel was asleep, or unconscious. At first Cohen feared she might be dead, but her chest was moving slightly.
"I think our Mr. Bolan might like to see her, don't you agree? He has seemed, shall we say, upset by her disappearance. I should like to dispose of him here where we can control things more readily." Turning to Parsons, he continued, "I think some sort of reference to her presence should be worked into your first communique, Malcolm."
"What do we do with her in the meantime?" Cohen asked.
"Keep her under tight security, segregated from the other hostages. I want to know where she is, and I don't want anyone, I repeat, anyone to go near her. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," Eli said. "Let's leave her in the car until we secure one of the buildings, then I'll move her inside."
"Very well. Let's move on. It's getting cold, and I'd like to be enjoying the warmth of a raging fire."
19
As the Blazer vanished over the hill, Mack Bolan realized he'd been had. But why? He knew that the answer would not be found back at the Parsons place. Parsons wasn't the type to lead an armed assault on Thunder Mountain. But Achison had been in the Blazer. That could only mean one thing: Glinkov.
Bolan floored it, pulling back onto the highway, fishtailing for a hundred yards until the tires gained traction. They were clever, all right.
They'd bought themselves plenty of time, but Bolan was determined that it wouldn't be enough.
Thunder Mountain was forty miles away, nearly an hour's drive over winding, ice-slick roads. And Bolan had no idea what he would be up against once he got there. But there was no time to consider possibilities. There was only time for a direct attack. As he maneuvered the Camaro through the slippery turns, always riding on the thinnest edge of control, Mack Bolan knew that he was the only man who stood between order and chaos, and the only man who stood between Rachel Peres and certain death, unless Eli Cohen was still on the inside. With less than twenty miles to go, Bolan had decided only one thing. He had to approach the place carefully. There was no margin for error. If he blew it once, the ball game would be over.
Bolan pulled off the road to check a map of the Thunder Mountain installation, but it showed him little he didn't already know. He'd have to trust his instincts, and hope for a little luck, something that had seemed in short supply the past few days. He rammed the car back into gear. The menacing roar of the Camaro echoed through the trees, filling the car, and Bolan's head, with the rumble of combat. Every battle he had ever fought paled before the coming confrontation. Never had the threat to innocent civilians been so enormous.
With five miles still to go, Bolan decreased speed. Glinkov was no fool; he might have more resources than Bolan realized. He had to prepare for the worst, and that was going to him time, time he didn't have. But there was no other way to go.
A warning sign on the right told him that the plant was just a mile away now. Bolan began looking for sentries that Glinkov might have posted on the approach road. He hoped the Russian was cocky enough to ignore that precaution. Such arrogance would be Bolan's ally, as it had been so often in the past. Seldom did the outcome of a battle hinge on one major mistake. It was an accumulation of errors that made the difference.
Thunder Mountain's glow lit up the trees now. They were starkly etched against the gray background. Bolan pulled into a small clearing, driving the Camaro past a bend in the narrow road and slamming it hard into a snowdrift to get it as far out of sight as possible. Approaching on foot, Bolan decided to check the main gate first.
It was the easiest point of entry. If Glinkov had taken the plant already, it would be most obvious at the main gate. The cover thinned as he neared the entrance, and the deep drifts among the trees hampered his approach. Finding a vantage point fifty yards from the fence, Bolan noticed nothing unusual. There were uniformed men in the main guardhouse. The gate was closed, and a patrol Jeep stood behind the small building.
While he watched, one of the sweep patrols rolled past, and a guard waved to the gatehouse. The driver beeped his horn, but kept on moving.