Twisted Path by Don Pendleton Read Free Book Online Page A

work with the FBI. If he had to work with the law, it was easier dealing with the local police rather than the touchy Feds. The Bureau meant well, but they had such a snooty, elitist attitude that they tended to rub other lawmen the wrong way.
    Kline was typical. Probably a lawyer or a chartered accountant, he adopted a paternalistic attitude at the drop of a pin. The agent equated the good of the FBI with the good of the country.
    Kline liked to leave the dirty work to the street cops so that he wouldn't get his freshly pressed suit mussed.
    Back in his hotel room, Bolan was fieldstripping his weapons when the telephone rang.
    "Hello."
    "Striker, I'm glad to hear you've been getting along so well with the FBI."
    "Hal. What's up?" Bolan knew that Brognola wasn't calling just to shoot the breeze.
    "For openers, I've got a note on my desk from none other than the director of the FBI himself. If it was any hotter, this office would be cinders by now."
    Bolan smiled. Brognola was able to make any memopushing pea brain sorry that writing had ever been invented. Especially since he had the heavy artillery behind him. "Calm down, Hal. I know how you love to play fireman."
    Brognola was exasperated. "Easy for you to say, Striker. The second thing is that Kline has been trying to put the make on Michael Blanski. Your fingerprints came in for identification. I was informed by a friend in that section."
    Kline would get a surprise, but it didn't make Bolan think any better of him. "The standard package is going back?"
    "No worries. What Kline gets will make you look like apple pie personified. I just thought you might like to know who your friends are. Or aren't, as the case may be."
    "Thanks for the news, Hal."
    "So tell, Striker. What did you do to those guys out there?"
    "Nothing... yet."
    * * *
    Bolan made his move an hour after midnight. He was dressed in street clothes with the Beretta in its custom shoulder holster. He wasn't expecting a gunfight with the FBI, but he couldn't discount a bold mugger. A sport bag held assorted goodies he had collected during the afternoon.
    The door to the old office building gave up almost as soon as Bolan touched a pick to the lock.
    The second-floor office represented a bit more of a challenge. Even though it was only a temporary field office, Bolan expected that some sort of alarm would be in place.
    A careful examination of the lock and doorframe failed to turn up any evidence. The picks went to work once more, and in seconds the door swung open.
    The beam of a flashlight revealed a square metal frame an inch beyond the doorway. The right side held a three-by-six-inch control panel with a numeric keypad for code entry.
    Bolan took an aerosol can of hair spray from the bag. Directing the mist between the metal uprights, he was able to see four detector beams spanning the artificial doorway. There wasn't enough space to safely squeeze between any two of the beams.
    Undoubtedly an alarm would sound at some FBI post if he broke one of the beams, and he suspected there was a motion detector in the base that would do the same thing if he moved the frame away from the doorway. He didn't have the equipment to decipher the entry codes.
    From a pouch inside the bag he withdrew a length of transparent, flexible cable, the same kind of fiber optics cable used to carry telephone messages in the more sophisticated networks. He quickly fixed one halfway over the transmission point of the lowest beam, then over the receptor. A moment of adjustment and the cable was in place, held by two suction cups. The lowest beam was now diverted through the cable, which rested partly on the ground, allowing plenty of room for Bolan to crawl through.
    Once he was inside, the filing cabinet took only a moment to pop before he settled down to a leisurely examination.
    Most of the files were worthless to him, including equipment receipts, expense statements, copies of weekly, monthly and quarterly reports and the other