Mack Bolan wasnât a tool of U.S. international policy
He was driven by the need to protect the victims of corruption and terrorism. Husbands, fathers, brothers and sons were executed brutally, while wives, mothers, sisters and daughters were raped and mutilated by Janjaweed forces.
The Darfur crisis, and the Rwandan slaughter a decade before, were symptomatic of an international apathy in regard to Africa. Its jungles and deserts, once colonial prizes of European governments, were considered lost causes, realms where white people had no business interfering.
Skin color didnât enter into the Executionerâs equation of justice. The Thunder Lions were about to make the Darfur crisis even worse, which elevated them to the top of Bolanâs priority listâfor a bullet.
Darfur, Sudan
General Thormun âThorâ Bitturumba watched with approval as his artillery crews screwed the canister warheads onto the 240 mm rockets. The fat tubes, nearly ten inches thick, each held a concentrated mixture of biological weaponry in an inert suspension. The suspension had a vaporization point that was well over fifty degrees Fahrenheit. In the blazing African afternoon, the carrier fluid would evaporate swiftly, assisted in its dispersal by a low-temperature, high-velocity explosion designed to hurl the weaponized microbes into the air.
The viruses had toughened cellular membranes, enabling them to survive as their long cilia spread out to catch air currents and ride the wind.
Bitturumbaâs satellite phone rang. He knew who it was.
âHow goes the preparations, Thor?â Alonzo Cruz asked. Bitturumba smirked. Here he was, speaking with one of Spainâs most prominent businessmen, on the eve of a biological weapons test, seemingly as a gigantic spit in the face to the world. Certainly, the general realized, the multimillionaireâs sat phone had incredible encryption protection, much like his own phone. But the call, only hours before a preview of hell on Earth, would have been detected despite its indecipherable nature.
âTheyâre going well, Lonzo,â Bitturumba answered. âThe hammer will fall at dawn.â
âNo need to be cryptic, brother,â Cruz replied, the quality of the digital signal so clear and free of static that it was as if the man were right next to the African. âNo one could break this call down.â
âNever say never, Lonzo,â Bitturumba admonished. âJust when we think that our keenest laid plans are going to go one way, reality takes over.â
Cruz chuckled. âThe cunning animal wisdom of a warrior.â
Bitturumba sighed. âOne does not rise to the rank of general without being absolutely prepared for the worst. Idi Amin was an optimist when it came to attempts on his life.â
Bitturumbaâs hand absently dropped to the .50-caliber Desert Eagle on his hip. Though most experts declined to recommend the massive Israeli-designed hand-howitzer for self-defense due to its need for perfectly tailored ammunition, Bitturumba was careful in his feeding of the Desert Eagle. Its reliability and power had protected the generalâs life on numerous occasions, tearing through the body armor of assassins and even shattering the thick, armored skull of an enraged bull charging at him. In no instance had the thunder pistol ever failed him. Given that his half brother, Cruz, always called him Thor, after the Norse god of thunder, the big. 50 was a welcome companion.
Bitturumba had been deemed the African god of war by many in the press, and his army had been given the nickname âThunder Lions.â The roar of launching rockets and the thunder of 105 mm shells were his militiaâs heralds on the field of battle.
âJust remember not to get caught downwind of your barrage,â Cruz warned. âIâd hate to lose blood just to run a quick test.â
âFear not, little brother. We are prepared,â Bitturumba replied.
The phone call ended and Bitturumba raised the binoculars to his eyes once more, scanning the refugee camp in the distance. It had been established and was currently under the protection of members of the Ethiopian Expeditionary Force, a trained army of African veterans who had been subjected to enough of the horror stories emanating from Sudan. They had come in hard and fast, putting the Janjaweed forces on the defensive. Only Bitturumbaâs army had been unfazed by the Ethiopian interference, but that was because Bitturumba had the same intensive military education that the EEFâs leader possessed. Both men were students of war, and theirs wasnât a brutal slugfest as much as a show of jabs and feints as both armies looked for weaknesses in each otherâs defenses.