Devil's Mark by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2010-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Well, why aren’t they coming!” Chet asked.

Bolan noticed Chet’s accent got thicker the more upset he got. They had been sitting in static defensive position in the bungalow for the past four hours and he felt Chet’s pain. It was closing in on 4:00 a.m. Bolan shrugged from his position by the door to the back patio facing the trees. The bungalow was thirty yards from the beach and about a hundred from the trees. “Because they’re screwing with us, Chet.”

“Well, they’re doing a jim-dandy job of it, too!”

Bolan scanned the tree line again. “Did you just say jim-dandy?”

“Goddamn it…” Chet glared outward over his gleaming shotgun. “So how’d you like Libby’s hypno-therapy session turning into a séance?”

“I didn’t care for it at all,” Bolan admitted.

“You ever seen anything like that?”

“Not exactly.”

“You buying it?” Chet asked.

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

Chet stewed. “You said they went Mad Max on you and Bree in Tijuana?”

“Yeah.”

“And full-on kamikaze when Villaluz took you into the Laguna Salada?”

“Yeah.”

“They used submersibles against us on the island.”

“So?”

“So what do you think they’re going to do here in Mazatlán? Tactical nuke?”

“Whatever it is, they’ve had time to plan it.” Bolan clicked his tactical radio. “What have you got big man?”

“I don’t got nothing.” Smallhouse was on the roof with a U.S. Marine Corps Designated Marksman Rifle with a night-vision scope on top and the Barrett just in case he needed something even bigger. “But I’m with Chet. It’s too quiet out there. I don’t like it.”

Bolan called back to the living room. “Libby?”

Ayala was still on the couch, but he was bound and gagged and Oderkirk was babysitting him. Besides her Jericho automatic pistol, she now had her requested Micro Galil assault rifle across her knee. “You dropped him hard. He’s still lights out but his breathing seems regular and nothing is leaking out of his eyes or ears.”

“Inspector?”

Villaluz reported from the terrace facing the sea. “I have no movement, amigo. Unless they have frogmen the submersible remains unmolested beneath the dock.”

Bolan wouldn’t put it past them. “Jack?”

“North flank clear.”

“Zhong?” Bolan called.

“South flank clear.” Bolan heard Zhong talk to Qu in Cantonese and the assassin came forward. He dropped to a knee beside Bolan. “This has gone on too long. Allow me a perambulation around the perimeter.”

Besides loving esoteric words in the English language, Zhong appeared to have a 10 mm Glock fetish, and had a briefcase full of them. He had assembled a Glock with a snap-in shoulder stock and add-on rails for a red-dot sight up top and a tactical light below. He carried another 10 mm Glock on his hip, and Bolan had seen him tuck a compact version into an ankle holster. Zhong was ready to top-ten someone into oblivion, if he didn’t chop their head off with the hatchet tucked into the back of his belt or tiger-claw their throat out first.

“How you going to manage that?” Bolan inquired.

“Qu told me of your aqueous attack on the submersibles. I will use the bungalow for cover and go straight into the surf.

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