Executioner 234 - Target Comman by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton [Pendleton, Don]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Gary Manning was on the roof with his M-21 sniper rifle for company. His voice spoke quietly in Bolan’s earpiece.

“Motorcycle. Appears to be alone.” A moment later a BMW touring bike pulled into the station, and a rider dressed in motorcycle leathers parked and began to put gas in his tank. He left the nozzle in and walked toward the diner. The men around the table gave no visible sign as they went into a high state of alert. The biker removed his helmet as he walked in, went straight to the sandwich machine, slipped in some coins and pulled out a sandwich. Bolan watched as he walked back outside and paid Hans. Hans pocketed the money and looked back toward the diner with a shrug as the biker climbed onto his motorcycle and pulled out onto the road.

Bolan spoke into the microphone in the collar of his leather jacket. “Anything?” The Executioner knew Gary Manning would be watching the rider drive away through the scope of the sniper rifle. There was a slight pause on the radio link.

“Our boy is circling toward the freeway.

He’s stuck his sandwich inside his jacket. I don’t think-was Manning stopped short. “Wait a minute. He’s pulled up his visor. He has something in his hand. I think he’s talking into it. I… He’s out of range now.” The Executioner’s eyes narrowed. “A radio?” Manning’s voice sounded positive. “A small black something, but yeah, I’d bet it was a radio.” Radtke put down his coffee. “We have something?” Bolan nodded. “I think we’ve just been positively identified, and trouble is on the way.” Almost on cue, Manning said, “A van is pulling off the freeway and heading in.” Bolan slid his eyes sideways and saw the headlights. Manning spoke again. “Panel truck, coming in your direction.” Bolan watched a second pair of lights pull in. The van came to a stop at the parking area by the far set of pumps. A green panel truck pulled onto the lot and parked near the rest rooms.

The Executioner smiled thinly. The tiny diner was now in a cross fire between the two vehicles.

Manning spoke again. “Car. Four passengers visible.” A BMW sedan pulled off the road and braked to a halt by the pumps. A thin man got out with a map in his hands and walked up to Hans. Another man got out and began to pump gas. A third grabbed the squeegee out of a bucket by the pumps and started to wipe down the windows. Bolan’s gaze slid from vehicle to vehicle. His instincts spoke to him like an icy breeze down his back.

The attack would happen any second now.

At the pumps one man was still engaging Hans in conversation and pointing at a map. The man wiping the windows was using awkward strokes. Bolan’s eyes slitted. The man was using his left hand. His right hand slid under his windbreaker.

The Executioner drew his.44 Magnum Desert Eagle and spoke into his collar. “The pumps!”

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