Point Blank

Mafia Massacre

Four deputy U.S. marshals are slaughtered along with the witness they’re guarding, a former Mafia member set to testify in New York. When it’s revealed the kill order came from a powerful Calabria crime family, Mack Bolan decides it’s time to stop the bloodshed at its source.

After arriving in Italy, Bolan learns trouble has already begun. Killing the witness is not enough; the Mafia is intent on murdering his entire family, including women and children. With local law enforcement on the Mafia’s payroll and spies everywhere, infiltrating the family is nearly impossible...especially as Bolan has been marked for death. Dodging bullets at every turn, he’s got to maximize every strike. The Mafia may have home advantage, but the Executioner won’t stop until he blows their house down.

“My brother is dead. He brought shame on all of us.”

“And you’re being punished for it,” Bolan told the woman. He knew the ground rules of a classic vendetta. No survivors could be tolerated.

“My mother, aunts and uncles, cousins. Everyone. Gianni will not rest while any of us are alive.”

“Gianni Magolino?”

She was staring at him now, eyes narrowed. “You know of him?”

Bolan rolled the dice. “I’m here because of him…because he killed your brother.”

“I asked you if you are polizia,” she accused him.

“And I’m not,” Bolan assured her.

“What, then?”

“Someone who solves problems when the law breaks down.”

Point Blank

Don Pendleton

Crime leaves a trail like a water beetle;

Like a snail it leaves its shine; Like a horse-mango it leaves its reek.

—Malayan proverb

I’m following a trail to those responsible for countless crimes.

The reek will be the smell of cleansing fire.

—Mack Bolan

For Prosecuting Magistrate Antonio Scopelliti

Assassinated by the mafia on August 9, 1991

THE

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 name—Sergeant Mercy. He was so tagged because of the compassion he showed to wounded comrades-in-arms and Vietnamese civilians.

Mack Bolan’s 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 society’s every rule. That same society started gunning for this elusive warrior—to 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 allies—Able Team and Phoenix Force—waged 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 “arm’s-length” alliance with his government once more, reserving the right to pursue personal missions in his Everlasting War.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

Quote

Dedication

The Mack Bolan Legend

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

Copyright

Prologue

Saturday—Shelter Island, New York

Rinaldo Natale felt lucky, and why shouldn’t he? After twenty-odd years of the high life, doing whatever he wanted and thumbing his nose at the law, he’d dodged a guaranteed life sentence by rolling over on his longtime friends and partners. Granted, turning into an informant had its drawbacks, first and foremost being the automatic death penalty it carried. The American agents swore they could protect him, but Natale had his doubts. He’d seen enough informants killed at home, together with their families and friends, to know that no one, anywhere, was absolutely safe.

The good news was that Natale loved no one, except for himself. His wife was dead, they’d had no children and his mistress was already warming someone else’s bed. As for blood relatives, they had disowned Natale when he’d made the choice to save himself and let the syndicate he’d served his entire adult life go to hell. They’d be among the first to kill him, given half a chance.

So much for family values.

The other good news was the safe house his protectors from the U.S. Marshals Service had selected for him. Shelter Island—how he loved the very name! One-third of the island was a virgin wilderness, the Mashomack Preserve. The year-round population was around twenty-five hundred people, many of whom golfed at the island’s two country clubs or cruised around on their sailboats.

If anyone ventured into Smith Cove, on the island’s south shore, they might speculate on who’d rented the rambling shorefront home abutting Mashomack Preserve. If they asked around, all they’d learn was that the place had been transformed into a posh executive’s retreat.