Splinter Cell by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2013-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

6

As soon as Abdul Hassan had returned with their clothing, Bolan sent him out again. He and Brick Paxton had already donned their blacksuits, and now they gave their informant a two-minute head start from the room before covering their battle gear with the trench coats. To further disguise themselves, they had cut the legs off two pairs of slacks, then slipped them over their calves and knees, holding them in place with rubber bands.

That way, the only combat-oriented item of equipment visible were their boots, and black leather and nylon footwear had become so common on the streets of America and Europe that no one was likely to pay them a second glance.

The Executioner’s only concern was that when they left their trench coats open, their nylon web belts—which did look battle ready—could be seen. And when they buttoned the coats and fastened the belts around their waists, the Calico machine pistols and 100-round backup drums were clearly visible.

But that problem had been solved by simply buttoning the loose coats and letting them fall straight toward the floor. They tucked the belts into their hand-warmer pockets, donned their alpine hats and stepped out into the hall.

The Executioner carried the laptop in a padded black nylon case that lent even more credence to the illusion that they had to be either American or European businessmen. Paxton toted a similar piece of black vinyl luggage, slightly larger. In addition to other things, it was filled with the traditional Arab clothing Hassan had purchased for them.

Bolan took note of the two other men and three women they rode down with on the elevator. Just like every place he’d ever been, the same elevator etiquette seemed to apply in Amsterdam. Everyone ignored everyone they didn’t know, acting as if they were alone on the elevator. The car’s passengers stared stupidly up at the numbers above the door, watching them light up, then darken again, as each floor was passed. When the doors finally slid back at the mezzanine level, the women were allowed off first. Bolan and Paxton waited for the other men to leave before stepping out.

It had been a good test, Bolan realized. The lumps in their trench coats—still partially visible under their arms—had drawn no attention.

Cutting down a side hall past a long row of rooms, the Executioner and his Army Ranger partner took a side exit outside the Amstel. They walked briskly toward the BMW, still parked on the street.

“You drive,” the Executioner said to Paxton, tossing the man the car keys as they neared the vehicle.

Paxton nodded as he caught them. It was obvious he understood that Bolan wanted to concentrate on the laptop and track Hassan’s movements himself once they were inside the vehicle.

The Ranger pulled out of the parking space, and Bolan directed him down the first alley they came to. After pulling into the darkness, the two men quickly discarded their coats and hats, tossing them into the backseat where they’d be readily available as soon as they were needed again.

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