Blood Toll. Don Pendleton
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Название: Blood Toll
Автор: Don Pendleton
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Морские приключения
Серия: Gold Eagle Executioner
isbn: 9781472084828
isbn:
The soldier ducked back as a blast of buckshot from a sawed-off shotgun clawed the air above his head. He triggered a return volley from the Beretta, the Parabellum rounds stuttering across the second NHL vehicle.
Diana Kirokawa called out to Bolan. She’d had to work her way around to the rear of the Charger to get a better angle on the NHL gunners. Now, as Bolan looked from his own position near the lead van, he saw that the two HPD officers were down and Bando was no longer in the cruiser. As Bolan watched, the big man ran into the flow of panicked drivers in the far right lane, narrowly missing being run down. Bolan held his fire; he would not be able to take the shot, not without risking hitting someone in a passing vehicle.
Bando jumped the concrete barrier on the other side and quickly disappeared.
One of the remaining NHL gunners leaned out too far from his position behind the second van. Kirokawa punched several holes through him with her Glock 19. Two of his comrades were already down, their blood spreading in pools across the pavement. But the NHL action had already provided Bando Kapalaua the diversion and time he needed to escape.
“Go! Go!” one of the gunmen shouted. The remaining NHL gunners began piling into the second van, which was already moving. Bolan left cover and emptied both of his guns into the rear of the fleeing vehicle, pocking the rear panel doors with holes and spidering the rear windows. Burning rubber, the big cargo van sped off, clipping a civilian vehicle trying to skirt the carnage.
Bolan ran to Kirokawa. He dropped the magazines in his pistols, reloading from the spares on his blacksuit under his windbreaker.
“Bando’s escaping,” Bolan informed her. “We’ve got to go.”
“We aren’t going anywhere.” Kirokawa shook her head. She nodded first to the remaining, bullet-scarred van, then to the police cruiser and the Charger. At least two tires on each vehicle were flat, shot through.
Bolan’s face darkened. There was nothing to be gained in cursing their luck. He moved cautiously around the side of the Malibu, taking in the scene.
Kirokawa followed, gasping when she saw what was left of Officers Davis and Charles. “I’ll call for an ambulance,” she said, pulling out her phone, her Glock still held in her right hand.
“Don’t bother,” Bolan said, kneeling beside the corpses. He checked first Charles, then Davis, just to be sure. “They’re gone.”
Kirokawa holstered her Glock. “Damn it all to hell!”
Bolan nodded slowly. Davis’s eyes were open in death. The Executioner, using his fingers, gently closed the man’s eyes. Before Bolan was finished in Hawaii, Bando Kapalaua would answer for his crimes and for these murders. This time, though, he would not answer to a revolving-door system of legal technicalities and soft-hearted judges.
This time, Bando Kapalaua would answer to the Executioner.
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