Читать книгу State Of War - Don Pendleton - Страница 15

CHAPTER EIGHT

Miami Beach, 10,000 feet

Grimaldi shouted from the cockpit into the helmet com link in Bolan’s ear. “Go! Go! Go!”

The soldier stepped out of Dragonslayer’s cabin and arched hard as he gave himself to gravity. Miami was a spectacular pool of light below, cut by the dark lines of waterways and counterpointed by the vast darkness of the ocean to the east and the Everglades to the west. The Stony Man pilot spoke in Bolan’s earpiece.

“Triangulating target.” The helicopter’s navigational computer synced with the grid of light below. “Target acquired, illuminating.”

The gimbaled infrared laser mounted on the helicopter fired a beam invisible to the human eye. In Bolan’s NVGs a bright pulsating spot appeared near the ocean’s edge. The spot pulsed on the roof of Salami’s beach bungalow.

“Copy that, Dragonslayer,” Bolan replied. “I have visual.” He stretched his arms behind him, turning his body into a streamlined dart aimed for the ocean’s edge. He enjoyed several more seconds of free fall and hit his chute as he crossed over the target. The canopy deployed, and Bolan began a tight spiral over Salami’s domicile. Out front Bolan could see a pair of men with slung rifles. They were smoking cigarettes, obviously in a low state of alert. Most of the lights in the house were off. The back patio and the beach beyond were dark and appeared empty. Bolan vectored in. The wind off the water was mild and the sand was soft. The soldier flared his chute as the beach rushed up at him and made a textbook landing. “On the ground. Going in.”

“Copy that, Sarge. Orbiting your position.”

Bolan clicked out of his harness and pulled his stun gun. He silently walked around the house and right up to the thugs lounging against Salami’s yellow Corvette. A black SUV sat parked to one side.