337 Tropic Blast by Don Pendleton

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

THE SUN HAD FINALLY risen on a new day when Bolan, with Frederico Heredia over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, walked down the steps to the driver's side of the van. Even through the windshield, he could see the surprised look on Wilson's face. To the former Texas Ranger, it looked as if Bolan really had used the bowie to torture the man to death. And that didn't add up to the man Wilson had grown to know since they'd both arrived in Colombia.

Bolan stared through the windshield, past Wilson, to the rear of the van. The man in the back was still blindfolded.

Bolan quickly shook his head for Wilson's benefit.

The man was sharp. He caught on immediately to what was happening and looked as if he was having trouble not laughing out loud.

Bolan walked up to the driver's window and said, "Take the blindfold off our friend in the back." Then he walked around to the other side of the van.

Wilson exited the driver's seat and hurried after him. A moment later, the door to the rear of the vehicle slid back on its track. Wilson reached in, ripped the shirt off the older man's face, then grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him out.

Just like Heredia before him, the tough guy fell on his face. Wilson pulled him up to his knees just as Bolan, ten yards or so away from the van, nodded. Then the Executioner leaned forward and dumped Heredia to the ground.

Heredia fell onto his side, his face toward Wilson, the older man, and the van. His eyes were open. And he kept them that way, staring with a thousand-yard gaze as if he was just waiting for rigor mortis to set in.

The older man squinted, trying to let his eyes adjust to the early morning light after being blindfolded for so long. But he saw what he was supposed to see, and took it the way he was supposed to take it. Watching out of the corner of his eye, the Executioner saw his face. For just a second or two, true fear shone in his eyes. But it disappeared just as quickly as it had come, and for a brief moment the man with the scar smiled. Then he went back to the solemn demeanor he'd maintained ever since awakening.

That second or two of fear had caught Bolan's attention. On a long-term hard case like this man, it spoke volumes. The smile was hard to explain. The Executioner knew it might mean that the man had forced it onto his face in order to drive out the fear and make his captors believe that nothing could shake him.

On the other hand, it might mean the man suspected the whole thing was a setup.

The hastily hatched plan had flaws, Bolan knew. But even if it failed, one way or another, he was going to know everything both Heredia and the man with the scarred face knew before any of them left the jungle again.

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