Читать книгу Silent Threat - Don Pendleton - Страница 11

The professional shooters were, much to Bolan’s complete lack of surprise, armed with Heckler & Koch submachine guns. These were UMPs, in .40 or .45 caliber from the look of them. The men were exiting their Mercedes sedans as the Executioner came out to meet them. He strode out the front door of the building as the two teams converged on it.

“Guten tag.” Bolan greeted them in his limited German, smiling broadly.

The two men in the lead stopped short and exchanged glances, confused by his sudden appearance and friendly demeanor.

The Desert Eagle whipped up from behind Bolan’s back. The soldier aimed by instinct and shot the first man in the face, riding out the .44 Magnum recoil and bringing the barrel back on target. The second .44 slug cracked like thunder and blew the second man to the ground. The blitz had the desired effect. The shooters scattered, their initiative lost, as Bolan dropped two more of the retreating gunmen with expertly placed Magnum bullets.