Rogue Elements by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2017-10-23T19:35:01+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Bolan took up a weapon. It looked like an AK and an AR had gotten together and had a baby, and a baby that wasn’t as ugly as one might expect. The Russian-made state-of-the-art AK-12 included a decent set of iron sights, a straight-line adjustable folding stock, a fire selector that you could actually reach with your thumb, and top, bottom and receiver accessory rails. All done in modern, “black rifle” black. They all sported top-of-the-line optics. Several had grenade launchers. Bolan noted a pair of RPK-74 light machine guns with one-hundred-round drums, as well.

Twelve Rampart men including Ricci and Gein laughed and joked as they checked weapons and gear. The teams were also being issued armored vests with ceramic inserts, helmets, knee and elbow armor, the whole bit.

It was a big step up in firepower from the MP7s they had been issued for the Sun King job. Eise stared at the weapon on the table before him. “I do not know how to shoot this.”

“It’s an AK, Eise. Just sexier.” Bolan flicked the fire selector. “What did I just do?”

“You set it on semiautomatic, and I am to keep it there.”

“Correct.” Bolan snapped out the stock. “And now?”

“You deployed the stock. Which I am to do, and use my sights.”

“What’s your mantra?”

“Do not shoot Blue in the back.”

“You got it.” Bolan glanced over at Yard in question to a question he already knew the answer to. “Yo, Hy. Where the hell did we get AK-12s?”

Yard leered. “You got them for us, Blue. When you and Team Viking took the bridge.”

Bolan laughed and racked the weapon’s action. “Right.”

“But I heard about your little shooting demonstration back on the Alice. So this one is for you.” Yard opened a long Russian military plastic case. Inside lay an SVDS. It was the old Russian Dragunov semiautomatic sniper rifle, but the old wooden furniture had gone black rifle, the stock folded and it had better optics. It was the airborne version and had a shortened barrel for ease of jumping out of airplanes. “You fired one before?”

Bolan took up the weapon. “Yeah, but the last one was old-school, wooden-stock, Afghan War–style.”

“You’re going to be our designated marksman on this one. You’ll all get some trigger time both today and tomorrow.”

“I’ll be ready.”

Ibarra reached into a crate and pulled out a fistful of goggles and a canister. “Gas masks, Hy?”

“All right!” Yard raised his voice to everyone in the room. “The gas masks are Chinese. I’ve used them before, they work, but I have no idea how they size them, so make goddamn sure you pick one that fits. If you don’t, your face will be swimming in a fishbowl of your own vomit. I shit you not. If things go really bad, you might just end up dead. I’m sure you have questions. You’ll be briefed tonight. Briefing is at 2200. I recommend you be on time.”

Bolan picked up a gas mask. It was a standard two-lens binocular job rather than

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