322 Time Bomb by Don Pendleton

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

15

Northeastern Pennsylvania

The mile marker indicated the Executioner was seven miles out of Wilkes-Barre. The sun had long since set, and he had narrowed the distance between his car and the brown van to a quarter of a mile. Traffic was fairly heavy, so there was little danger of their making him.

The warrior had put in another call to Brognola. His friend was grateful for the update and relayed the news that the Feds were hoping for a satellite fix on the van so they could keep it under surveillance from the sky but heavy cloud cover had defeated their efforts so far.

"No news to report from the Farm," the big Fed added. "They're at work on that hard drive you brought from Mexico but so far there's nothing to justify all you went through to obtain it."

"Putting the Vargas brothers out of operation was justification enough," Bolan said.

"The FBI has relayed the rest of their files on missing girls," Brognola disclosed, "but it will take days to isolate those related to potential targets?' He paused. "In the meantime we've been in touch with the CFR and the Trilateral Commission and requested the names of anyone who has had a relative go missing in the past year."

"What about the brainwashing angle?"

"Already on it. We're checking every supplier of any drug that might conceivably be used but the list is as long as your arm."

Bolan thought of something else. "Anything from the yellow van?"

"My people impounded it and lifted some fingerprints off the steering wheel, the dash and the doors. If the kidnappers are career criminals, we'll soon know who they are."

"Keep me posted." Bolan placed his cell phone on the seat beside him and gazed at the van's taillights. Baggy and Lumpy were holding to a few miles under the speed limit to keep from being pulled over. Smart of them, but it made for a long, dull ride. He almost wished something would happen to break the monotony.

A car came up on his left. The warrior could not tell much about it other than that it was a late-model sedan, and there appeared to be two people in the front seat. He glanced back twice as they crept up alongside him. They were in no great hurry to pass. Their windshield was even with his rear door when he glanced over his shoulder a third time and saw that the man on the passenger side was rolling down his window.

Sometimes a soldier had to operate on gut instinct. There was no real reason to suspect they meant him harm. It was a warm, muggy night, and rolling down a window was a normal thing to do. But something set his every nerve to blaring, and without trying to rationalize it, he applied the brakes and leaned to the right so his silhouette wouldn't be outlined against the side window.

Simultaneously, the window imploded, showering pieces of glass all over him, and the other car went hurtling past.

Bolan floored the gas pedal.

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