Stealth Assassin by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton [Pendleton, Don]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2019-05-23T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Stony Man Farm

Virginia

Bolan stretched out on the bed, appreciating the smoothness of the sheets and the freshly washed fragrance of the pillow. It felt good to be in a regular bed for a change.

The bed in his quarters at the Farm, he thought while taking a deep breath as Barbara Price’s fingers kneaded the muscles of his upper back and neck. It had been a little more than thirty-six hours since the last mission, and he was finally starting to feel the tension fading. She lightly traced her fingers around the jagged scab on his right shoulder, the place where the AK-47 round had ripped across his flesh in Syria.

“That looks like it’s healing nicely,” she said.

“Yeah,” Bolan said, smiling. “It only hurts when I laugh.”

He heard her quiet chuckle. Bolan took in a deep breath, then exhaled, consciously willing the tension to leave his body. Sometimes it took longer than others, and doing two nonstop, back-to-back missions hadn’t helped. He inhaled deeply again as her hands went back to work on his shoulders and back.

Just as he was starting to relax, the phone, which was on the bedside table, jangled to life.

“If that’s Hal wanting you to go on another mission right now,” Price said, “I’ll have to have words with him.”

Bolan glanced at the screen and nodded. “It’s him.” He pressed the button to answer it and brought the phone toward his ear. “But don’t worry. It’s not a Skype call.”

She slapped the solid muscles of his abdomen and laughed.

“Hey, sorry if I’m interrupting anything,” Brognola said. His tone indicated that he’d caught part of Price’s laugh.

“I figured you’d be getting ready to drag Jack through another one of your training drills.”

“That’s on the agenda for this afternoon,” Bolan said. “But he told me after our last assignment all he wanted to do was sleep for a week.”

“Yeah, well, he deserves it. As far as I’m concerned, you guys earned the Triple Crown this last time. And, the President is very grateful.”

“That news and six dollars might get me one of those fancy coffees at Starbucks.”

Bolan heard the big Fed clear his throat and then his tone grew serious. “I don’t mean to rain on your parade, but I needed to ask you something.”

Bolan said nothing, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“When you guys were in Syria and Somalia,” Brognola said finally, “that Agency team you worked with. You remember what they called themselves?”

“The Raptors,” Bolan said. “Why?”

“Looks like they got wiped out coming back from over there. Figured you’d want to know.”

“The whole team?”

“Yeah, as near as they can figure. You know how sketchy things are with the CIA. They’re saying it was an airplane crash, but there’s some suspicion that the Russians were involved.”

Bolan remembered McMahon’s last words to him: It’s time for us to go home. He recalled the many casualties in his War Everlasting. So many with the same goal. So many dead.

Welcome home, he thought.

“That’s too bad. A couple were video game commandos, but on the whole they seemed pretty squared away, especially their leader.

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