Название: Shadow Strike
Автор: Don Pendleton
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Приключения: прочее
isbn: 9781472084576
isbn:
“Sorry, mate,” the driver muttered, and shifted into gear once more.
“Wait a minute,” a Turkish sergeant commanded, holding up a palm. “That’s a British navy uniform. Why is the royal navy guarding a UN facility?”
Instantly, everybody in the convoy stiffened and stared intently at the lone guard.
With a sigh, Thorodensen reached into his pocket.
“Hey now, he’s just some swabbie doing the task he was assigned,” the driver said with a big grin. “Isn’t that right, ya yellow-bellied whoremaster?”
Having no idea what else to do, the guard grinned back and winked.
“British my ass, it’s a trap!” the sergeant yelled, working the arming bolt on a MP-5 as he swung the weapon around and fired.
The startled guard was blown off his feet as the hail of 9 mm rounds hammered across his chest.
Thorodensen pressed the first button on the remote control.
Instantly, the entire section of road lifted up on thundering columns of flame, twisted bodies and broken wreckage spraying outward for a hundred yards. The motorcycle riders were torn to bits, their flaming bikes tumbling into the electrified fence sending out torrents of sparks. Even the armored trucks flipped over, rising a dozen yards into the air before crashing back down sideways onto the ruined roadway. The NBC vehicles slammed into the pavement, but seemed completely unharmed; not even the windows were cracked.
Instantly, the Icelanders started to rush forward.
“Wait!” Thorodensen commanded, pressing the second button.
A split second later, a full salvo of surface-to-air missiles streaked out from the hidden bunker on the hill, and the Ashanti gunship erupted into a writhing fireball. As it fell, the props came loose and spun wildly away, while several rockets launched into the sea. They hit the water and violently detonated, sending out huge waves that crashed onto the rocky shoreline.
“Now, get those trucks open!” Thorodensen bellowed, striding down the road. “We have thirty minutes before reinforcements arrive!”
“Thirty?” Vilhjalms asked, already working the small EM scanner in her hands. “I thought our window was only fifteen minutes!”
“Before leaving the United Nations I managed a small reorganization of the tactical rescue forces in Spain,” Thorodensen said grimly. “They’re now less efficient than the French parliament on a Friday.”
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