Mission: Apocalypse. Don Pendleton

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СКАЧАТЬ staggered like drunks in half-blind, half-deaf disorientation. Hundreds of winking, pyrotechnic aftereffects flitted about like fireflies. A third man was holding himself up with one hand on the wall and desperately shaking his head to clear it from the effects of the stun grenade. In the gray-green world of the night-vision goggles the wine stains on the man’s face looked black. Bolan put a burst into each of the riflemen and put them down. Salcido pushed himself away from the wall and tried to raise a pistol.

      Bolan closed in three strides and snapped the butt of his rifle on Salcido’s wrist. The man screamed as his wrist fractured and the pistol thudded to the carpet. Whipping the butt up, Bolan cracked Salcido across the cheek. As his adversary staggered back under the assault, the Executioner slung his rifle and buried his fist into the man’s guts. The drug lord doubled over and then screamed and stiffened like a board as Bolan dropped his fist across each kidney as if he were hammering nails. The big American seized him by the collar and belt, and marched him into the master bedroom. More French doors opened onto a balcony. Pinto howled as Bolan accelerated from a fast walk to a run and gave him the bum’s rush right off the balcony.

      Salcido screamed as he plummeted through the darkness.

      His screams were cut short as he hit the swimming pool with a splash. Bolan climbed over the balustrade, hung by his hands for a moment and then dropped down in the backyard below. He went to the pool and hauled Salcido out by the hair and hurled him onto the pool deck. Bolan unslung his rifle and aimed at Salcido’s face. He activated the tactical light mounted on the side of his rifle and strobed Salcido with 75,000 candlepower at sixty blinks per minute. Salcido moaned and tried to raise his hands in front of his face. Bolan kicked them away, killed the light and planted a knee on Salcido’s chest. “Pinto, where is it?”

      “Where’s…what?” Between the flash-stun, the beating, the impromptu skydive and swim and the strobing, Salcido was at an all-time moral low. “Where’s what? I got money, I got drugs…. Whatever you want.”

      “I want the material.”

      Salcido gasped. “What…material?”

      Bolan frowned beneath his mask. It was possible that Salcido had no idea just what had been stored in his warehouse. “You had a very important consignment in the warehouse. Now it’s gone.” Bolan leaned more weight into his knee. “Where is it now?”

      “Shit…I don’t know. I was just paid to sit on it until pickup.”

      “Who picked it up?”

      “I don’t know, some guys. I didn’t know them.”

      Bolan sighed inwardly. Unfortunately he was fairly certain Salcido was speaking the truth. “When did the plane leave the airstrip?”

      Salcido suddenly became reticent.

      Bolan dialed the light up to 150,000 candlepower and hammered Salcido with the strobe. The man groaned and twitched feebly. At this level some individuals were known to have seizures and the drug lord had already had a hard night. “They left by truck! They took the road north!”

      Bolan killed the light. “How many men?”

      “Three.”

      “Who were they?”

      “I told you! I don’t know!”

      “Describe them.”

      “One was Mexican. He did all the talking, and he didn’t talk much. The other two were white boys.”

      Bolan cocked his head. “Americans?”

      “I don’t know…I don’t think so.”

      “Why?”

      “I don’t know. They didn’t say anything, but they acted all cool and European and shit. They were all dressed down, but you could tell they were suits.”

      “How long ago did they leave?”

      “This morning.”

      Bolan nodded. He might have caught a break. It was 650 miles to the closest point of the border. That was a long haul through a lot of rural Mexico. “What kind of truck?”

      “I don’t know what kind of truck!”

      A man lurched onto the back patio coughing and hacking. He carried a revolver in one hand and machete in the other. Salcido screamed as Bolan put a burst into the interloper’s chest and hammered him back into the hacienda. Bolan waited a moment to make sure he stayed down and then returned his attention to Salcido.

      “What kind of truck?” he repeated.

      “I don’t know!”

      “Describe it.”

      “I don’t know! A flatbed! Like farmers use! The cab was blue!”

      “How big was the load?” Bolan persisted.

      “It was like six packing crates.”

      “How big?”

      “Like the size of coffins. I didn’t ask any questions. I got paid not to ask questions. My men loaded it up and they took off.”

      “How was it loaded?”

      “In a pyramid, three on the bottom, two in the middle and one on top. They’re tied down and have a tarp over them.”

      “Were they heavy?”

      Salcido considered this. “My boy Chivo says it felt like they were loaded with rocks.”

      “Any of your boys feeling sick?”

      Salcido seemed confused by the question. “Sick? No, no one is sick. Why?”

      Bolan ignored the question. “You say you don’t know who picked the load up or where they went?”

      “No.”

      “Who sent it?”

      Salcido got reticent again.

      Bolan strobed him.

      “Hey! Shit! Man! I—”

      “Talk to me and you live.” Bolan was implacable. “You don’t, I shoot you and ask someone else.”

      “I don’t know who sent it! I’m just part of the pipeline!”

      “Who was the part behind you?”

      Salcido trembled. Bolan gave him a bit more knee in the sternum.

      “King Solomon! He sent it up from Mexico City!”

      It was a name Bolan had heard of in Mexican crime. He heaved Salcido to his feet and handcuffed him. “Let’s go for a walk.”

      “A walk? Where?”

      Bolan gave him an encouraging shove. “Into the hills.”

      “Aw, СКАЧАТЬ