Читать книгу Damage Radius - Don Pendleton - Страница 2

They kicked up dirt and grass all around him, lodging in the tree trunk as he popped back to his feet behind the pine tree.

Bolan stared in the moonlight, following the angle of the shots back to a man who stood partially out of the guard shack, wielding an M-16.

He aimed, pulled the trigger of his gun and sent two rounds into the guard’s shoulder, causing him to drop his weapon. A look of shock covered the man’s face for an instant before Bolan squeezed the trigger again, and the man fell out of the shack onto the pavement.

Bolan leaned out from around the tree trunk and sighted down the barrel. A lone round took out the second man at the gate. The third sentry was still hiding inside the small building, covered from the waist down by concrete but visible through the glass in the top of the window.

He aimed at the man’s head and pulled the trigger. His slug struck the glass then ricocheted off with a loud whine. The window was bullet resistant—but nothing was completely bullet proof.

Bolan left the cover of the tree and raced toward the open door of the shack. The final sentry was squatting with his gun in hand, looking straight at him as Bolan fired his weapon. In the end, all of the concrete and bullet-resistant glass in the world hadn’t helped him, and the guard fell on his face just as dead as the others.

The yard grew silent. Then, in the distance, Bolan heard sirens and he knew that the fighting had raised alarms.

The Executioner had to get away. Fast.