Free Beirut Payback: MacK Bolan by Don Pendleton Page A

out his pistol.
    Something heavy thumped into the corridor wall alongside the door inside that office.
    Strakhov opened that door and burst in fast, cautious, just in time.
    He took it in at a glance: Abdel dead on the floor across the office like a gutted fish. The impact Strakhov heard on the wall had been General Masudi throwing himself at Kleb. They piled into the wall before tumbling to the carpeted floor, locked in combat. The Iranian was on top, one fist in an iron grip on the Russian officer's gun wrist, preventing Kleb from completing his draw. Masudi was trying to force a bloodied stiletto down into Kleb's heart. The GRU man only barely fended him off with a straight-armed grip around Masudi's wrist.
    The closed window across the office showed the first glow of dawn. No one came in that way to help Masudi, thought Strakhov as he rushed to Kleb's aid. Masudi had hidden the dagger before they brought him into the room.
    The Syrians had not searched him properly.
    Strakhov detested all Arabs.
    He hurried over and brought the butt of his pistol down hard behind Masudi's right ear, but not hard enough to kill.
    The blade dropped from the Iranian's hand.
    Masudi collapsed sideways.
    Kleb pushed him away and scrambled to his feet, yanking his gun out the rest of the way, too fast for Strakhov to stop him.
    "Kleb! No!" Strakhov shouted.
    The blast from Kleb's Walther PPK drowned out the command and brought death to Ib Masudi, the projectiles devouring the Iranian general's throat and part of his face.
    Strakhov reached Kleb and angrily smashed the pistol from Kleb's fingers with his own Walther.
    "You fool!" Strakhov snarled, lapsing into Russian.
    "He... he was about to kill me," gasped Kleb.
    "You were in no danger — you panicked. Now we will learn nothing from Masudi. I had the communications room monitor your interrogation in my absence. He said there are other plotters. He could have told us so much."
    "I'm sorry, comrade Major General." The GRU man backed down. "I... I overreacted. But, if I may ask, after tomorrow... and dawn is only a few minutes from now... will the president's fate be of any concern to us?"
    "I would not expect your peasant mind to grasp the finer points of my mission, Major," Strakhov snapped. "Do you think, if things go as we plan, that the Disciples of Allah and the other groups like them will simply disband and disappear? Or the Iranians? We must gain control of these factions now, while the power base is fluid. The ruling government in Beirut must not be slaughtered. We can only accomplish our goals away from world attention."
    "I... I understand, comrade Major General."
    Strakhov holstered his pistol.
    "Retrieve your weapon then. What has been done cannot be undone." Kleb obeyed meekly.
    "Thank you, comrade."
    "I will be taking over General Abdel's office for my stay in this pit," Strakhov growled, striding briskly with barely a glance at the dead Syrian to a chair behind the desk. "He won't be needing it." He glared daggers at Kleb. "Contact ranking officers of the Druse, Syrian, PLO and Iranian forces in the area. Schedule an emergency briefing. Here, at noon today. "
    "That, uh, may be difficult, comrade Major General, considering..."
    "Tell them they will be here," Strakhov barked. "They will understand. And they will understand what I tell them at the briefing. Or they shall be replaced."
    "I shall see to it immediately."
    "Also see to this," Strakhov instructed. He handed Kleb a scrap of paper. "We have traced the license number of a car seen leaving the Iranian compound at Biskinta two hours prior to our attack this morning. It was an unmarked vehicle of the Lebanese government." Kleb registered a puzzled frown.
    "The government?"
    "Apparently there are things happening in Beirut at this moment that we do not know. A situation I find untenable."
    "I shall... pursue the matter vigorously," Kleb promised.
    "See that you do, Major, and perhaps I shall have reason to be more generous in