Assassin's Tripwire
VOLATILE RELATIONSA new era of friendship between the Syrian and U.S. governments is threatened when American high-tech weapons go missing en route overseas. Determined to destroy the stolen arms before they can be used, Mack Bolan discovers nothing is what it seems between the Syrian regime and the loyalists–including the beautiful double agent working with him.Getting to the weapons alive is only one of Bolan's problems. Tracking down the enemy behind the theft–without starting a war–will put his years of experience to the test. But discretion is of the utmost importance, and the lives of millions are at stake, which makes the Executioner the only man for this mission.
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VOLATILE RELATIONS
A new era of friendship between the Syrian and US governments is threatened when American high-tech weapons go missing en route overseas. Determined to destroy the stolen arms before they can be used, Mack Bolan discovers nothing is what it seems between the Syrian regime and the loyalistsâincluding the beautiful double agent working with him.
Getting to the weapons alive is only one of Bolanâs problems. Tracking down the enemy behind the theftâwithout starting a warâwill put his years of experience to the test. But discretion is of the utmost importance, and the lives of millions are at stake, which makes the Executioner the only man for this mission.
Bolan froze. His nostrils flared.
The smell was unmistakable. It was human body odor, and if he was smelling that, it could only mean one thing.
There were enemy soldiers right here, right now.
Bolan ripped his knife free and slammed the blade into the dirt next to his knee. A scream welled up and blood darkened the arid soil. Bolan left his knife where it was lodged and threw himself into a forward roll.
The ground erupted around him. Half a dozen soldiers, concealed in shallow grave-like depressions, popped up all around him. The soldiers pushed themselves to their feet, their weapons and web gear trailing plumes of dirt. Weapon-mounted lights cast hazy beams in the dusty air.
Bolanâs suppressed Beretta machine-pistol was already in his fist. He pivoted on one knee, tracking the weapon lights.
The Beretta coughed out 3-round bursts as the Executioner tapped out a Morse code of death on the trigger.
Assassinâs Tripwire
Don Pendleton
And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, millions of mischiefs.
âWilliam Shakespeare,
Julius Caesar
The world is full of people looking to start trouble. But you canât let yourself be overwhelmed by those who live for chaos. You have to focus on what you can affect. You deal with that, and you deal with it directly. The rest sorts itself out.
âMack Bolan
THE
MACK BOLAN
LEGEND
Nothing less than a war could have fashioned the destiny of the man called Mack Bolan. Bolan earned the Executioner title in the jungle hell of Vietnam.
But this soldier also wore another nameâSergeant Mercy. He was so tagged because of the compassion he showed to wounded comrades-in-arms and Vietnamese civilians.
Mack Bolanâs second tour of duty ended prematurely when he was given emergency leave to return home and bury his family, victims of the Mob. Then he declared a one-man war against the Mafia.
He confronted the Families head-on from coast to coast, and soon a hope of victory began to appear. But Bolan had broken societyâs every rule. That same society started gunning for this elusive warriorâto no avail.
So Bolan was offered amnesty to work within the system against terrorism. This time, as an employee of Uncle Sam, Bolan became Colonel John Phoenix. With a command center at Stony Man Farm in Virginia, he and his new alliesâAble Team and Phoenix Forceâwaged relentless war on a new adversary: the KGB.
But when his one true love, April Rose, died at the hands of the Soviet terror machine, Bolan severed all ties with Establishment authority.
Now, after a lengthy lone-wolf struggle and much soul-searching, the Executioner has agreed to enter an âarmâs-lengthâ alliance with his government once more, reserving the right to pursue personal missions in his Everlasting War.
Contents
Mack Bolan flexed his knees as the ground rushed up to meet him. He rolled when he hit, hurrying to slap the quick release on his parachute. The black chute billowed behind him once he was free of it, carried by the high winds that had made his high-altitude, low-opening jump that much more difficult.
The man once known as the Executioner rolled and caught the chute, pulling it to his chest and folding it several times. In the moonlit darkness he would be nearly invisible, but there was nothing to be gained by leaving the chute floating around the desert where it could alert some passing patrol.
Crouching, using the night sky to silhouette any enemies who might approach, Bolan checked his gear. He wore a KA-BAR-style combat knife inverted on his web gear, which was concealed by a lightweight three-quarter-length jacket. Over his chest was slung his canvas war bag, which contained most of his munitions. Holstered in custom leather under his left arm was his action-tuned Beretta 93R, while a Desert Eagle in .44 Magnum was tucked in his waistband, in a Kydex IWB holster behind his right hip.
Heâd been told his local contact would provide him with heavier weaponry on an as-needed basis. It wasnât practical for him to drop in with much more equipment than he had, so heâd opted to max out his weight limits on loaded magazines and grenades rather than adding an assault rifle to his kit. Toting two handguns and a knife, he wasnât exactly unarmedâ¦but if a patrol found him out here, where there was no cover and nowhere to go, he would definitely be outgunned.
