Mind Bomb. Don Pendleton
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Название: Mind Bomb

Автор: Don Pendleton

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Приключения: прочее

Серия:

isbn: 9781474027564

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Phoenix Force fanned out into the lobby silent as shadows. McCarter took point. He moved for the bar per Encizo’s recommendation and took a peek around the corner into the Minerva’s bar. The furniture was gone. The carpeting had been torn up. The bar had been shot to pieces and there wasn’t a drop to drink in sight. Encizo had been right. Their mystery date was waiting for them in the bar. Four men and one woman lay dead on the floor in pools of blood. “Cal, T.J., check the bodies. Rafe, get pictures of everything. Gary, watch the door.”

      James shook his head as he did a quick med check. “All of them are dead. I’d say within the hour. All of them took what looks to be a 2-to 3-round burst through the head.” James gingerly turned the dead woman’s head. Her face was a blown-out ruin. He checked the other bodies; they were the same. “I say by the wounds the bullets entered through the back and came out the front.”

      McCarter didn’t like it. “They were all shot in the back of the head?”

      “Looks that way,” James confirmed.

      “Look at this!” Hawkins had snapped on a rubber glove and gingerly picked up a pistol with his thumb and forefinger. The weapon was big and black. The grips were deeply grooved. The slide was deeply grooved. Two inches of barrel stuck out of the slide and it was fluted like an automatic cannon barrel. “Anyone ever seen something like this?”

      McCarter hadn’t. He took out his phone and dialed the Farm. A few moments passed as his call went through a series of defensive filters before McCarter tapped in his current password.

      Kurtzman’s voice came across. “What’s up?”

      “Is Cowboy around?”

      “I think he’s in the shop as we speak.”

      “Patch me through, with video. Got something I want to show him.” McCarter waited a moment and John “Cowboy” Kissinger popped onto his screen.

      The armorer stood at his workbench with a sea of parts around him. “You got something interesting?”

      “Something I’ve never seen before. T.J.?” Hawkins held up the gun and slowly turned it in front of McCarter’s phone.

      “Well, well, well...” Kissinger mused.

      “Something you don’t see every day?” McCarter asked.

      “Something you don’t see ever.” The armorer sounded genuinely impressed. “You got the Holy Grail of machine pistols right there.”

      “Machine pistol?”

      Kissinger sounded uncharacteristically giddy. “Tuma MTE 224 VA.”

      McCarter rolled his eyes. “Come back from the edge, mate. Give me the relevant.”

      “It’s Swiss.”

      Phoenix Force collectively blinked. McCarter looked at the weapon Hawkins was holding. He had to admit it looked exquisitely manufactured. He had used Swiss equipment on a few occasions. It was top-of-the-line. They spared no expense and cut no corners. The only problem Swiss arms manufacturers had was that Switzerland’s strict neutrality laws meant they could not export weapons. They got around that by letting others manufacture their designs for a hefty fee. The machine pistol looked like something right out of Star Wars, and McCarter had never seen the like. “The Swiss don’t export much.”

      “No, they don’t,” Kissinger agreed. “The only people outside of Switzerland using those might be the Swiss Papal Guard at the Vatican. And if they are? The Pope ain’t telling.”

      “Thanks, Cowboy.”

      “Anytime. Bring me back a sample if you can.” Kissinger clicked off the line.

      “Bear?” McCarter asked. “You thinking Swiss intelligence sent a team to Beirut?”

      Manning snorted. “Didn’t know Switzerland had an intelligence network.”

      “Oh, they do,” Kurtzman said. “From what I gather it’s mostly military intelligence and nearly impossible to find out anything about. From what little can be gleaned they mostly stay up in their alpine fastness. Rumor is a lot of their banks are tied in. ‘Swiss bank account’ is a metaphor for something to hide. Their intelligence assets usually come to them.”

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