Читать книгу Deadly Salvage - Don Pendleton - Страница 3

Bolan asked the FBI agent if he had a weapon

“I do,” Tyler said, patting his chest.

“Better get ready. I think you’re going to have to use it.”

A dirty gray pickup truck whipped around the corner. The bed was filled with rough-looking men. The man in the passenger seat turned his pale, shaved head and yelled something at the driver. Two of the men in the back of the truck straightened and leveled AK-47s over the cab.

“Take cover!” Bolan yelled. “I’m going for those two tourists.”

“Roger that,” Grimaldi replied.

Bolan pulled out his Beretta 93R as he zigzagged through the picnic tables. “Get down!” he shouted at the French couple.

Bolan was about three steps from the tourists when the first rifle rounds zipped by him. He crouched and dove into the man, reaching out for the woman and pulling her down.

He counted eight men total from the truck, spread out across the plateau.The big bald guy, shouting orders in Russian, held his AK-47 over the truck’s fender and sent a barrage at Grimaldi and Tyler, then aimed at Bolan. The picnic table’s thick boards deflected the rounds. Bolan glanced back at the tourists. If they stayed there, hopefully they wouldn’t get hit. He fired another three-round burst toward the truck.

Bolan saw the Russian guy smiling as he looked up over the top of his rifle.