171 Deadly Force by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

13

Bolan waited in the shadows at the end of the row of warehouses. He had told Martell to come alone, and to hurry. He wasn't sanguine about either possibility, and was determined to wait and see before exposing his position to the Frenchman. Twenty minutes later, a car rolled onto the street and drifted along the curb. It slowed further as it reached the front of Artemian Oriental Importers. The car stopped, backed up and turned into the warehouse.

In the warehouse lights, Bolan could see a solitary man at the wheel, but he was too distant to tell whether it was Martell. He started down the street, keeping close to the front of the buildings. He could just see the taillights of the six-year-old Renault, the kind of car Martell said he would be driving.

As Bolan reached the warehouse next to Artemian's, he heard a car door slam. He peered around the corner and saw Martell run into the warehouse, then stop and kneel beside one of the fallen gunmen.

Martell turned the body over on its back and shook his head.

"Know him?" Bolan asked as he crept up behind the Frenchman.

Martell leaped to his feet and reached for his gun, but stopped when he recognized the big American. He made a feeble pass at a smile. "No. I've never seen him before."

"Come on," Bolan said, "we have a long drive. I'll tell you everything on the way."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see when we get there." He walked back to Martell's car and climbed into the driver's seat, adjusted the bucket to accommodate his longer legs and waited for Martell to get in the passenger side.

Martell opened the door. "I better call this in."

"You mean you didn't?"

"You said come quickly and tell no one. I took you at your word."

"All right, but hurry up." He watched Martell through the windshield as he walked to a phone mounted on a steel column twenty yards into the building. The man dialed, then turned his profile toward Bolan, as if to demonstrate that he had no secrets. He spoke rapidly, bobbing his head several times.

Martell hung up, ran back to the car, climbed in and slammed the door. "Let's get away from here quickly. I've never done that before in my life."

"Done what?"

"Left an anonymous tip. It's a strange feeling. I feel dirty, sort of."

"Why anonymous?"

"Something tells me there will be many questions. I certainly don't have the answers, and I don't want to have to respond to those questions until I'm ready."

"You're all right, Martell."

"I may soon be unemployed, as well."

The Executioner backed out of the garage and cruised down the block until he found his car. He pulled over and opened the door. "We'll drop your car off on the way. You won't want anyone to stumble on it down here, and I don't want mine turned up, either. I'll follow you."

Martell slid over the console into the driver's bucket as Bolan climbed out. Starting his own car, the warrior fell in behind the lieutenant on a half-hour drive to the suburbs.

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