Читать книгу Missile Intercept - Don Pendleton - Страница 3

Grimaldi buzzed the airstrip, diving at the accelerating plane.

The aircraft jerked to the left, slowing. The side door flew open and a figure jumped to the ground. Thin streams of red tracer rounds zoomed upward.

“Whoever the hell that guy is,” Grimaldi said over the radio, “I’m taking fire, and it’s coming close!”

Bolan paused, sighted the hostile gunner and squeezed off a quick burst. The man twisted in Bolan’s direction, and the Executioner fired again. His target jerked slightly. He was hit—but how badly?

Seconds later he had his answer as the red tracer rounds began zipping past him. He ducked, rolled to the left and came up on one knee just as the firing stopped. He saw the hostile leaning back, his right arm extended behind him.

Bolan fired another burst, and seconds later the flash and concussion of an explosion washed over him, accompanied by a second, larger conflagration as the plane went up in a gigantic fireball.