War Everlasting. Don Pendleton
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people willing to do the job, day in and day out.”
“So, what was your idea?”
“I’d guess you were at Mookee’s trying to break in,” she emphasized the last words with midair quote signs.
“I figured if anyone had the information I needed it would be local residents,” Bolan said. “The military has competent investigators, but they’re outsiders. The people who work up here aren’t going to let them in easily.”
“You’re right about that. My plan had originally been to take you to a guy I know who could have gotten you a cover working the docks at the Adak port. Now it looks like we’ll have to do this the hard way.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” Bolan said.
Corsack frowned. “I wish there was another road to go down, but I’m afraid there isn’t. I just hope you’re as tough as you look.”
Bolan’s eyebrows rose. “You want to read me in?”
“Most of the guys who work and live on Adak are natives, or they know somebody with pull. Everyone who wants to work there who isn’t related to someone in the Onalash Corporation has to earn the respect of those who serve on Haglemann’s union.”
“That’s what I was originally shooting for,” Bolan interjected. “Until we got picked off on the way to wherever you were taking us. So who’s this Haglemann?”
“Davis Haglemann. He’s the local union boss.”
“I can tell you don’t particularly care for him.”
“Now that would be an understatement,” Corsack replied, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Haglemann’s not exactly someone you want to run afoul of. He’s nothing more than a thug—well, maybe more like the boss of thugs. The guy doesn’t have enough gonads to do his own dirty work. He puts that into the hands of his union reps.”
“Sounds like an awfully big organization when you consider the population on Adak Island. What does it run these days, about two thousand?”
“And some change. I see you’re well informed.”
“I try.”
“Well, whatever else you might know, you probably don’t know that everything happens in Adak on Haglemann’s whim. If he says jump, everyone asks how high, and nobody questions him. Except a select few of us, and he just tries to either bribe his way out of it or simply ignore those of us who protest conditions. Truth be told, things are actually pretty good on the island. We all have nice houses, and nobody’s homeless or starving.”
“Poverty and social disorder isn’t good for business,” Bolan said in a matter-of-fact way.
“Right,” Corsack agreed. “That’s why he does his best to keep up appearances and keep any widows or less fortunate appeased.”
“And how exactly does he manage that?”
Corsack snorted and executed a dismissive wave. “How doesn’t he manage it? Everything from big-screen TVs to low-interest loans to cold, hard cash.”
“You mean bribes.”
“Yes, I do mean bribes.”
Bolan’s eyes narrowed. “Sounds like someone who likes to exploit the less fortunate.”
“He’s a bastard—real son of a bitch.”
“Tell me more about him.”
“He owns the only exclusive country club on the entire island. It’s right there at Nazan Bay, which is where all the main docking and port facilities are located. The weather’s only good enough between April and October for freight services. The remaining months are basically down time where people mostly stay indoors, drink and screw each other by a roaring fire.” She added quickly, “Not to sound crude, just telling you like it is.”
Bolan nodded. “And it’s exactly that kind of seasonal rotation that gets you a city with a lid on it.”
“Or a whole island. It also keeps out any of the undesirables, or so that’s what Davis calls them.”
“Any thoughts about whether he’d sell out his own people to a terrorist group?”
“He doesn’t have any of his own,” she replied. “He’s a business entity through and through, and not the least bit interested in the problems of the locals. He’s practically turned that town into a police state. And nobody has enough money or power to stop him. Most people just look the other way, as long as they got food in their bellies and roofs over their heads. Anyone who makes too much noise gets told to leave and a free one-way ticket out of paradise.”
“Why have you stayed?”
Corsack downed the last of her beer and sniffed before replying. “Guess I’m just the beat-up, stubborn old serviceman’s widow and not willing to give up. Not yet, anyway.”
“Not so old,” Bolan said with a gentle smile.
“Sweet of you to say,” Corsack said. “But you’re not really my type.”
“Noted,” Bolan said, wholly unoffended by Corsack. Actually, he liked her. She was tough and spoke her mind, and he admired her convictions. The two of them were more alike than he’d originally thought.
“So you were telling me about this alternate plan to get me on the inside.”
“Yeah,” she said, crumpling the beer can in her hand and tossing it in a nearby wastebasket. “But you aren’t going to like it very much.”
Nazan Bay, Adak Island
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN you don’t know what happened to them?” Davis Haglemann shouted into the receiver. “How the fuck do you lose one out-of-towner who stands out like a sore thumb with one of our locals?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the voice on the other line said. “Somehow they managed to escape both tries.”
“Quit whining like a little girl.” Haglemann sighed and sat back in his chair. He could feel the swell of anger in the form of blood pooling at the base of his neck. The doctor had ordered him to reduce his stress. Screw the old bird; he didn’t know what he was talking about, anyway. Haglemann had been pumping the guy’s old lady off and on for months.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“And quit saying you’re sorry! You are sorry...a sorry bastard. You said he was with that Corsack bitch?”
“Yes, sir.”
“She may bring him back here,” Haglemann said. “And nobody enters or leaves this island without me knowing about it. If they do come here, I’ll take care of it. Just keep your eyes and ears open, and if he does show up again, take him out. Immediately. And try not to fuck it up again. Got me?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Haglemann slammed the phone into its cradle with an angry wheeze. He stared at it a moment before letting his eyes meet the bemused gaze of the red-haired, swarthy man seated before him. If he hadn’t needed Vladimir Moscovich quite so badly, he would have shot that stupid smirk off the Russian’s face.
“What are you grinning at?”
Moscovich’s expression didn’t wane. “You really need to take these things a bit less personally, my friend. You’ll live longer.”
“Let’s get something straight, Vlad,” Haglemann said. “We’re not friends. You got that? We’re business partners, and that’s it. Furthermore, how I choose to react to my own people and problems is none of your fucking business!”
Moscovich raised a hand and shook his head. “Don’t take offense so easily. I meant nothing by it.”
“You meant something