Читать книгу Killpath - Don Pendleton - Страница 3

Bolan charged down the hall with a snarl of bullets

Some of his opponents wore body armor, but the M4’s deadly sputter struck with enough force to slow them down, allowing Bolan to adjust aim and send rounds into their exposed heads and throats.

Between Rojas’s sniping, Bolan’s blitz and the gunmen’s agitated state, the Soldados de Cali Nuevos didn’t stand a chance in this tenement.

It took all of a minute and two thirty-round magazines to completely clear the first story. The second story was alive with breaking glass and screaming. Rojas wasn’t allowing the Soldados a moment of respite.

By the time Bolan reached the second-floor corridor, only a few men remained within sight. The Executioner shouldered his rifle and drilled one of them through the side of his head with a single round. The other Soldado let out a scream and waved his machine pistol wildly. In the dark hallway, Bolan was a wraith among the shadows.

“On two,” Bolan told Rojas. “Don’t shoot me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied. “I’m saving all my ammo and hatred for the enemy.”