Volcano Read Online Free

its label.
    “Well, well,” the heavily accented voice boomed behind him,
“for a supposedly anti-US mercenary, you are one curious fellow.”
    Joe turned slowly on his heels, arms outstretched, palms
toward the sleek tile floor.
    “Planning a party, Al Fahd?” he asked through a tight smile,
his eyes never leaving the Arab’s.
    “Ah yes,” Al Fahd grinned, clamping down on his cigar with
his teeth. “Quite a party, Mr. Smith,” he said, addressing the American by the
name Joe had provided when he’d infiltrated Al Fahd’s terrorist training camp
as a paid US mercenary. “And what,” the Arab asked, walking over to a low box
and savagely ripping its seal with a steady left hand, “is a party without-
balloons?”
    Al Fahd grinned and dug a fistful of flat latex globes out
of their carton. Still with his left hand. Joe
suspected it was because his right was reserved for deadly action. Joe smiled
slightly in return but didn’t move a muscle.
    “You like balloons, Mr. Smith?” Al Fahd asked, shaking out a
bright blue globe and dropping the rest of the litter back into the box.
    Joe’s stomach knotted, as he internally judged the distance
from his elevated hand to the small plastic explosive clipped to his belt.
Three seconds was all he needed to disengage it and send it flying in Al Fahd’s
direction.
    Al Fahd managed a whistle between his teeth and the unlit
cigar, but kept a careful eye on the American as he strolled over to a dusky
green tank and secured the balloon lip around its valve. He jerked the knob
forward and the balloon quickly inflated.
    Joe’s senses alerted, and he knew with the dead calm
certainty that came from years of undercover experience, that the balloon Al
Fahd was suddenly wafting in his direction was not merely filled with
helium.
    Al Fahd approached steadily as Joe stealthily attempted to
lower his arm.
    “Uh, uh, Mr. Smith,” Al Fahd said, raising the balloon
slightly above his head and drawing closer. But Joe knew that whatever was in
there, most likely some sort of chemical poison, would be deadly to the two of
them.
    Al Fahd loudly sucked in the saliva that was forming around
his cigar, then slipped his right hand beneath his
military jacket.
    Joe’s hand clipped to his belt as Al Fahd spat his cigar to
the ground, withdrew a miniature mask and slapped its
self-adhesive seal around his nose and mouth.
    “Now, Mr. Smith,” he said, a wicked glint
in his eye, the dancing blue globe just inches from Joe’s chin. “Do we
party or do we tell the truth?”
    “What kind of truth are you after?” Joe asked, his right
thumb resting lightly on his belt rim.
    “The truth about your identity for a start.”   Even through the intricate mesh of the
mask, his words came out clear and menacing.
    “You know who I am, Al Fahd.”
    The Arab rose his jet black
eyebrows.
    “And you know I can help you,” Joe went on, defending his
bluster, “but not if you continue to shut me out of your plans.”
    “Nobody!” Al Fahd shouted. “Nobody knows Al Fahd’s plans but
Al Fahd!”
    Joe studied the Arab and parted his lips in his best cool
smile. “There’s a saying in America, something about safety in numbers. Two
heads are-”
    Al Fahd harrumphed. “Your point?”
    “No matter what you’re planning, you could benefit from one
more man.”
    “A man, precisely,” Al Fahd shot back, “ not an
imposter.”
    “I am exactly who you think I am,” Joe said, hoping to
confuse Al Fahd with brutal honesty. “And more.”
    Al Fahd slowly wavered the blue globe back and forth before
McFadden’s eyes, then eased it to right below his chin. “How much more?” he
asked, pressing inflated latex to Joe’s jugular.
    Joe sucked in a swallow of air between gritted teeth and
slightly raised his chin. “Every man has his price, Al Fahd. Even in the grand
old US of A.”
    Al Fahd pulled back the balloon with a satisfied grin. “How
much of a price?”
    “Two million.”
    Al Fahd pressed the