Stolen Arrows
CRASH INTERCEPTA major CIA sting operation goes disastrously wrong, putting four miniature nukes from an American Cold War project on the free market. The bloody snatch-and-grab work done, all that remains for double agent Cirello Zalhares and his rogue cadre is to sell the weapons, collect their millions and get off U.S. soil before the mushroom clouds rewrite history.Turning over rocks in the nation's major crime organizations, Mack Bolan's hard probe targets the buyer's market for the weapons and the bidding war for disaster. When the laws of supply and demand clash with the law of the jungle, the only way to avert the unthinkable is head-on.No deals. No mercy.
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Bolan closed the cell phone with a click
The man had wished him luck. The Executioner shook his head at the sentiment. Right now civilization needed more than that. Balls and brains could only take a soldier so far; after that it was the draw of the cards. So far, his luck was holding, but for how much longer? Just one slip on his part and the bombs would disappear, until atomic fire burned a city to the ground.
A nuclear fireball bearing the technological signature of America and possibly starting a war that might never end.
The soldier hoped that Lady Luck would stick with him. He had to find the Zodiac in twenty-four hours.
Other titles available in this series:
Hardline
Firepower
Storm Burst
Intercept
Lethal Impact
Deadfall
Onslaught
Battle Force
Rampage
Takedown
Deathâs Head
Hellground
Inferno
Ambush
Blood Strike
Killpoint
Vendetta
Stalk Line
Omega Game
Shock Tactic
Showdown
Precision Kill
Jungle Law
Dead Center
Tooth and Claw
Thermal Strike
Day of the Vulture
Flames of Wrath
High Aggression
Code of Bushido
Terror Spin
Judgment in Stone
Rage for Justice
Rebels and Hostiles
Ultimate Game
Blood Feud
Renegade Force
Retribution
Initiation
Cloud of Death
Termination Point
Hellfire Strike
Code of Conflict
Vengeance
Executive Action
Killsport
Conflagration
Storm Front
War Season
Evil Alliance
Scorched Earth
Deception
Destinyâs Hour
Power of the Lance
A Dying Evil
Deep Treachery
War Load
Sworn Enemies
Dark Truth
Breakaway
Blood and Sand
Caged
Sleepers
Strike and Retrieve
Age of War
Line of Control
Breached
Retaliation
Pressure Point
Silent Running
Stolen Arrows
Mack Bolan®
Don Pendleton
In doing what we ought, we deserve no praise, because it is our duty.
âSt. Augustine, 354â430
Itâs a soldierâs duty to stand guard against the forces of evil and to shout that none shall pass. In this I will not falter.
âMack Bolan
As always, for Melissa.
And a special thanks to Lucia Read. She knows why.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
Archbishop Park, London
Distant thunder rumbled softly in the cloudy London sky, warning of a coming storm. Soon now, very soon.
Trying to act casually, heavily armed CIA operatives strolled through the budding greenery of the south bank parkland. No two were dressed alike, but each had a telltale flesh-colored wire trailing from his earplug to the compact transponder clipped to his gunbelt. A few smoked, one was eating an ice-cream cone, but all were razorsharp and braced for the oncoming action.
Stopping to tie a shoelace, a man checked the digital readout of the Geiger counter strapped to his wrist as if he were comparing its time against the distant chimes of Big Ben. Satisfied for the moment that the combat zone was clear, he coughed twice into his hidden throat mike to relay the information, then moved onward to take a sip of water from a nearby fountain.
Scattered across Archbishopâs Park, several families had spread checkered blankets on the freshly cut lawns while excited children ran along the footpaths darting in and out of the trimmed hedges and among the strolling pedestrians. Rising like a glass cathedral above the lush trees was the new Archbishopâs Hospital and past the footbridge was the old baroque-style library, the once-clean Scottish granite blocks now stained a dull uniform gray with the passage of the long centuries.
Sitting on the steps of the library, a large man was reading a book in Portuguese, the volume positioned to hold down his loose windbreaker and to hide the gun in his shoulder holster.
âFalcon, we have a contact,â whispered a voice from the radio in his ear. âSector five, a Zodiac is approaching the park. Repeat, a Zodiac is near. All agents, full combat protocol at all times. Stay sharp and wait for my command.â
Grunting in confirmation, Cirello Zalhares continued reading his novel, waiting for target identification. The voice on the radio was David Osbourne, the CIA operative who had hired his team of mercenaries for this dirty job. But then, black ops were what his group did best and the CIA always paid top dollar.
Just then a teenage girl walked by, her yellow print dress rising high in the river breeze to expose a lot of tanned leg and a hint of lace panties. Nice. Raising his sight, Zalhares admired the fullness of her young body and finally her face, loose, golden blond hair framing elfin features. Noticing his attention, the girl paused for a moment and pursed her lips in a controlled smile at the stranger, but as he smiled back she paled slightly and hurried away, fearfully glancing backward to make sure he wasnât following.
Unconcerned by her reaction, Zalhares returned to his reading. Although only in his early thirties, it had been many years since Zalhares could have been called handsome, the network of scars on his face and neck from his line of work reducing his looks to merely striking. Although the black hair and dark skin proclaimed a Spanish ancestry, his sharp eyes were swirls of different subdued colors. Egyptian, the effect was called, although he knew of no such Arab relative in the family tree. Just a genetic fluke, an abstraction that caught the attention of many beautiful women, until they saw the savage mind behind the beautiful eyes and their ardor cooled just as quickly as it had flared to life.
