Law of the jungle
The Pacific Rimâs most vicious human predators, the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam, are on the move again. But old-school terror tactics have given way to a more clandestine approach to hijacking global power. The Tigers have grassroots fundraising inside the United States and the death of a uniquely positioned software engineer tips to something big in the works. A young woman from a powerful family is ransomed at the same time a powerful new technology is stolen. Following the trail of both, Mack Bolan finds that it leads to Singapore and the murky waters of the Bay of Bengal. The Tigers have acquired a top secret satellite and soon the terror will go online.
Staying one step ahead of their stone-cold pursuer and finding refuge in their fortified compound, the Tigers and their calculating leader give Bolan a fight for his life. Heâs willing to pay that price, but heâll take the terrorist leader and his pirates to hell with him for their crimes.
The guards charged into the house
Shots rang out as they fired blindly at Bolanâs shadow, and he ducked back into the room. Dilvan and Faizal were still battling, and he was running out of options.
Dilvan stumbled backward, knocking a computer monitor to the floor, and Bolan took aim with his 9 mm pistol. Just as he fired, Faizal jumped forward, pushing the younger man out of the way.
âWhy the hell did you do that?â the Executioner asked as his friend fell to the floor.
âHe beat me at the keyboard. We need him.â
Bolan looked up in time to see Dilvan through the door and rolled to his feet. But he was too slow. The bullet from the close range pistol tore through the air. He felt the impact, knew he was hit, and then the cold darkness took him.
All forms of tampering with human beings, getting at them, shaping them against their will to your own pattern, all thought control and conditioning is, therefore, a denial of that in men which makes them men and their values ultimate.
âIsaiah Berlin 1909â1997
A person must accept responsibility for his or her own actions, no matter the cost. But when someone takes away your free will and your ability to act, others have to get involved.
âMack Bolan
CHAPTER ONE
The waters of the Malacca Strait were gray and choppy, mirroring the low-slung clouds overhead. Heather Daniels stood at the rail of the supply ship Favorâs Pride and watched Singapore slowly fade into the distance. For all her travels, sheâd never been in a place quite like it. Singapore was a city of contradictionsâbeautiful, modern architecture, neon lights and all the technological conveniences of the United States crashed against old, run-down buildings, poor sanitation and desperate poverty. Like many of the other cities she passed through, Singapore wasnât a place she would miss, but then again, her purpose there had only been to secure supplies for the next stop on her voyage.
Once theyâd cleared the Malacca Strait, the ship would bear northwest toward the Andaman Islands and Port Blair, right in the middle of the Bay of Bengal. The small city was serving as a staging area for tsunami relief efforts in Sri Lanka and other parts of Indonesia. It was also a holding area for the hundreds of displaced and lost children, whose parents had either disappeared or died in a disaster that had claimed thousands of lives.
Four years as a nurse practitioner had given Heather the skills she would need to help with the many medical needs of the children, but her true calling was her work as a missionary, trying to bring a little faith and light to those who desperately needed it. As far as Heather was concerned, spiritual needs were just as important as medical ones. Maybe more.
As the ship began tacking north, she turned away from the rail. The ship wasnât fancy, but she would be comfortable enough in her small cabin, though the heat would probably be stifling. The first mate, a man named Simmons, was making his way across the deck and paused, tipping his seamanâs hat politely. He was tall and lanky, with several daysâ growth of beard on his face and scraggly black hair that looked to be in need of a good washing. Heâd also been friendly and polite.
âYou doing all right?â he asked, settling the hat back on top of his head. âNot the kind to get seasick, are you? If so, youâd best stay by the rail and watch the horizon. Thatâll help.â
âIâm fine, thank you,â she said. âAnd I donât get seasick. How long until we make Port Blair?â
âIf the weather holds in the Strait, we should be there within a few days. This old tub isnât fast, but sheâs steady.â He rubbed his stubbled jaw contemplatively.