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Final coup by Pendleton Don 1927-1995

Final coup by Pendleton Don 1927-1995

Author:Pendleton, Don, 1927-1995
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Bolan, Mack (Fictitious character) -- Fiction, Mack (Fictitious character), Cameroon -- Fiction, Cameroon
ISBN: 9780373643882
Publisher: Toronto ; New York : Gold Eagle/Worldwide
Published: 2011-10-15T00:00:00+00:00


Final Coup

already been attacked once on their way to the warehouse. And there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t run into other gangs of marauding street thugs on their way back.

“The supply plane is almost here,” he said. “So let’s destroy these weapons rather than lug them around. But hang on to a rifle until we get out of this neighborhood,” he told the CIA man.

Lareby nodded. A moment later, he and Antangana had dropped the comforter to the alley floor and were bashing rifle stocks and pistols against the brick wall of the alley. They kept two of the better-looking AK-47s and several extra magazines, rolling them back up in the comforter.

Retracing their steps, Bolan and Lareby held the AK-47s in front of them in the ready position as they strode forward. Antangana stayed between and slightly behind them. If gangs saw them, they stayed in hiding to wait on easier- looking prey.

When they reached the edge of the ghetto and saw ordinary-looking people walking the streets, Bolan stopped at the end of the alley they traveled. Unrolling the comforter in the shadows of the buildings all around him, he yanked the magazines from both AK-47s and broke the rifles by leaning them on the curb between the sidewalk and the street, then stepping on them. A loud snap sounded both times the Soviet-made weapons broke in two. But no one else on the dark streets paid any attention. Bolan left the rifles there in pieces, satisfied that they could never be used again.

Antangana looked the least threatening of the three, so Bolan placed him out front to flag down a cab. Bolan and Lareby stayed in the shadows until one of the taxis finally pulled over. The driver sat where he was, smiling as he let the prime minister open the back door.

The smile fell from his face when Bolan and Lareby got into the back and Antangana took the shotgun seat. The

driver looked the two men over, obviously frightened that he was about to be robbed and possibly murdered.

Antangana smiled. “Do not worry, my friend,” he told the driver. “We are, as they say in American Western movies, the good guys.”

The driver didn’t look very convinced.

“Take us to the airport,” Bolan said in a pleasant voice.

The driver nodded nervously, threw the vehicle into gear and took off.

The cab reached the airport as the sun began to rise, just in time to see two unmarked jets setting down on the runways.



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