CHAPTER 3

In his Pentagon office, General Thaddeus Ross—known to friends and enemies alike as Thunderbolt—snapped out of his reverie when his assistant, Major Kathleen Sparr, put a stack of forms onto his desk. Ross signed the forms automatically. They were basic requisition orders, dull and routine.

"Here's something a bit more interesting," Sparr said. She held out a fax. "Possible gamma sickness. Milwaukee. A man drank one of those guarana sodas. Guess it had a little more kick than he was looking for."

"Where was the soda bottled?" Ross asked.

Major Sparr checked the fax. "Porto Verde, Brazil."

A few weeks before, intelligence had flagged something else in Porto Verde. Ross came up with it: A smuggler had been asking around about a particular rare orchid. It was known to S.H.I.E.L.D. scientists to have anti-radiation sickness possibilities. Ross and Major Sparr had tried to find out who had ordered the flower and where, but the Brazilian wilderness was a hard place to get good intelligence and the lead had petered out.

Now, though, a bottle of soda from the same city had turned up tainted with gamma radiation. That couldn't possibly be a coincidence.

"Get our agency people looking for an American at that bottling plant," Ross ordered. "Tell them no contact. If he even sees them, he's gone."

Then he got on the phone to call in some favors from an old friend.

Two hours later, a transport van stopped near the runway of Fort Johnson, deep in the Florida Everglades. Ross watched with his fellow general, Joe Greller. "I got you what I could," Greller said. "Short notice, but they're all quality. And I pulled you an ace."

The chatter stopped as a helicopter banked in for a landing. Before the chopper was fully at rest, a short, muscular soldier with dirty blond hair leaped out. There was nothing remarkable about his features except his eyes. They were the eyes of a man who saw everything just a little bit sooner than most.

"Emil Blonsky," Greller said. "Born in Russia, raised in England. On loan to SOCOM from the Royal Marines." SOCOM was the United States Special Operations Command.

"I know you cashed in some chips for this, Joe," Ross said.

Greller shrugged. "Glad I could help. Just make it good."

As the plane buzzed toward Brazil, Major Sparr handed out briefing folders containing photos of Bruce Banner, Bruce's apartment building, and the town of Porto Verde. The commando studied them.

"This is the target and the location," Sparr lectured. "Snatch and grab only. Live capture. You'll have dart clips and suppression ordnance, but live fire is for backup only. We've got local help, but we want it tight and quiet."

Ross joined the briefing in the rear of the plane. Blonsky looked up at him. "Is he a fighter?" Blonsky asked.

"Your target is a fugitive from the US government who stole military secrets," Ross replied curtly. "He is also implicated in the deaths of two scientists, a military officer, an Idaho state trooper, and possibly two Canadian hunters. So don't wait to see if he's a fighter. Tranq him and bring him back."

Blonsky nodded.