Frank Johnson was recruited because he had been a Green Beret in Vietnam and was known among his comrades as “the killing machine”. He loved to kill. He was motivated, and highly intelligent.“He’s perfect for us,” Janus said. “Approach him carefully. I don’t want to lose him.”The first meeting took place in an Army barracks. A Captain was talking to Frank Johnson.“Don’t you worry about our government?” the Captain asked. “It’s being run by a bunch of bleeding hearts who are giving the store away. This country needs nuclear power, but the damned politicians are stopping us from building new plants. We depend on the damn Arabs for oil, but will the government let us do our own off-shore drilling? Oh, no. They’re more worried about the fish than they are about us. Does that make sense to you?”“I see your point,” Frank Johnson said.“I knew you would, because you’re intelligent.” He was watching Johnson’s face as he spoke. “If Congress won’t do anything to save our country,then it’s
Day Eight Waco, TexasDan Wayne was not having a good day. As a matter of fact, he was having a dreadful day. He had just returned from the Waco county courthouse where he was facing bankruptcy proceedings. His wife, who had been having an affair with her young doctor, was divorcing him, intent on getting half of everything he had (which could be half of nothing, he had assured her lawyer). And one of his prize bulls had to be destroyed. Dan Wayne felt that fate was kicking him in the balls. He had done nothing to deserve all this. He had been a good husband and a good rancher. He sat in his study contemplating the gloomy future.Dan Wayne was a proud man. He was well aware of all the jokes about Texans being loud-mouthed, larger-than-life braggarts, but he honestly felt he had something to brag about. He had been born in Waco, in the rich agricultural region of the Brazos River Valley. Waco was modern, but it still retained a flavour of the past, when the five Cs had been its suppor
Day NineFort Smith, CanadaFort Smith, in the Northwest Territories, is a prosperous town of two thousand people, most of them farmers and cattle ranchers, with a sprinkling of merchants. The climate itself is demanding, with long and rigorous winters, and the town is living proof of Darwin’s theory of the survival of the fittest.William Mann was one of the fit ones, a survivor. He had been born in Michigan, but in his early thirties he had passed through Fort Smith on a fishing trip and had decided that the community needed another good bank. He had seized the opportunity. There was only one other bank there, and it took William Mann less than two years to put his competitor out of business. Mann ran his bank the way a bank should be run. His god was mathematics, and he saw to it that the numbers always came out to his benefit. His favourite story was the joke about the man who went to a banker pleading for a loan so that his young son could have an immediate operation to save his
At eleven o’clock that evening William Mann’s doorbell rang. He was not expecting anyone, and he disliked unannounced callers. His housekeeper had retired, and his wife was in her room upstairs, asleep. Annoyed, Mann opened the front door. Two men dressed in black suits stood in the doorway.“William Mann?”“Yes.One of the men pulled out an identification card. “We’re from the Bank of Canada. May we come in?”Mann frowned. “What’s this about?”“We would prefer to discuss that inside if you don’t mind.”“Very well.” He led the men into the living room.“You were recently in Switzerland, were you not?”The question threw him off guard. “What? Yes, but what on earth …?”“While you were gone we had your books audited, Mr Mann. Are you aware that there is a shortage in your bank of one million dollars?”William Mann looked at the two men, aghast. “What are you talking about? I check those books every week myself. There has never been one penny missing!”“One million dollars, Mr Mann. We t
Day ElevenBrussels, 0300 HoursGeneral Shipley, the Commandant at NATO Headquarters, was awakened by his adjutant.“I’m sorry to wake you up, General, but we seem to have a situation on our hands.”General Shipley sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He had had a late night entertaining a group of visiting senators from the United States.“What’s the problem, Billy?”“I just received a call from the radar tower, sir. Either all our equipment has gone crazy or we’re having some strange visitors.”General Shipley pushed himself out of bed. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”The darkened radar room was filled with enlisted men and officers gathered around the lighted radar screens in the centre of the room. They turned and sprang to attention as the General entered.“At ease.” He walked over to the officer in charge, Captain Muller. “What’s going on here, Lewis?”Captain Muller scratched his head. “It beats me. Do you know any plane that can travel 22,000 miles per hour, stop on a dir
Kiev, The Soviet UnionLike most of her countrywomen, Olga Romanchanko had become disenchanted with perestroika. In the beginning, all the promised changes that were going to happen in Mother Russia sounded so exciting. The winds of freedom were blowing through the streets, and the air was filled with hope. There were promises of fresh meat and vegetables in the shops, pretty dresses and real leather shoes and a hundred other wonderful things.But now, six years after it had all begun, bitter disillusion had set in. Goods were scarcer than ever. It was impossible to survive without the black market. There was a shortage of virtually everything, and prices had soared. The main streets were still filled with rytvina – huge potholes. There were protest marches in the streets, and crime was on the increase. Restrictions were more severe than ever. Perestroika and glasnost had begun to seem as empty as the promises of the politicians who promoted them.Olga had worked at the library in Len
Robert telephoned General Milliard from his hotel room.“I found the Russian witness. Her name is Olga Romanchanko. She works in the main library in Kiev.”“I’ll have a Russian official speak to her.”FLASH MESSAGETOP SECRET ULTRANSA TO DEPUTYDIRECTOR GRUEYES ONLYCOPYONE OF (ONE) COPIESSUBJECT: OPERATION DOOMSDAY8. OLGA ROMANCHANKO – KIEVEND OF MESSAGEThat afternoon Robert was on an Aeroflot Tupolev Tu – 154 jet to Paris. When he arrived three hours and twenty-five minutes later, he transferred to an Air France flight to Washington, DC.At two a.m. Olga Romanchanko heard the squeal of brakes as a car pulled up in front of the apartment building where she lived, on Vertryk Street.The walls of the apartment were so thin that she could hear voices outside on the street. She got out of bed and looked out of the window. Two men in civilian clothes were getting out of a black Chaika, the model used by government officials. They were approaching the entrance to her apartmentbuildin
Willard Stone and Monte Banks were natural enemies. They were both ruthless predators, and the jungle they prowled was the stone canyons of Wall Street, with its high-powered takeovers, leveraged buy-outs and stock deals.The first time the two men clashed was during the attempted takeover of a huge utility company. Willard Stone made the first bid, and anticipated no problem. He was so powerful, and his reputation so fearsome, that very few people dared challenge him. It was a great surprise then when he learned that a young upstart named Monte Banks was contesting his bid. Stone was forced to raise his own bid, and the ante kept going up. Willard Stone finally acquired control of the company, but at a much higher price than he had anticipated paying.Six months later, in a takeover bid for a large electronics firm, Stone was confronted again by Monte Banks. The bidding kept escalating, and this time, Banks won.When Willard Stone learned that Monte Banks intended to compete with him