Superbolan 32 Battle Force by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ving the assault buggy parked with Larkin at the wheel two klicks south of the North Haakovian fuel depot, Mack Bolan stayed with the sparse forest and moved at a steady, distance-eating jog. He was dressed in South Haakovian night cammies, complete with a watch cap that served a dual purpose of keeping his head warm and making him blend with the night.

The sliver of moon had vanished some time ago, blocked out by the snow clouds that had rolled in from the sea. Snowflakes, as big as plums, fell to the ground as far as the cye could see.

The big warrior paused at a tree line and looked up the final slope that led to the waiting trucks. The snow was already starting to stick, which was going to cause problems for the covert team as far as concealment went. The trees and brush would help some, but the overall effect of the fight was being blunted by every fraction of an inch of now that piled up.

He glanced over his shoulder, studying the movement of his troops through the night-vision goggles he wore. Gray clouds streamed out from the mouths of the few men he maw. With the ground not really frozen and some of the snow melting when it hit, the going was getting tougher. It would make a difference when they moved the tanks in the morning, too.

l le turned his mind from projecting what the next day might bring. He had his hands full dealing with this, and it wasn't finished yet. He pushed himself back into motion. With having to move things along faster because of Phoenix Force's problems, the slack time he'd built into this part of the operation had suddenly evaporated. The fuel depot was only thirty miles in from the coast. It was conceivable that the central intelligence post might radio them to confirm the presence of enemy aircraft. And Phoenix's run in-country would bring extra defenders from the coastline. Of course, the up side was that it could prove to make things even more confusing for the North Haakovians.

Carrying a full pack and wearing a Kevlar vest made climbing the hill at a near run even harder. The Desert Eagle rode at his hip, while the Beretta 93-R occupied its usual shoulder leather in his military webbing. Grenades, extra clips and garrotes lined his pockets, pouches and harness. For the close-in work necessitated by capturing the tanker trucks with as little damage done to the big rigs as possible, his choice of lead weapons was a 12-gauge Mossberg Model 500 Bullpup.

At the top of the ridge he hunkered next to an oak tree and took out the night glasses. The tanker trucks were parked in formation, all facing the southeast, away from the bitingly cold wind coming in with the storm. The tractor rigs were painted North Haakovian brown.

A few minutes passed as the Executioner picked out the security teams maintaining a loose perimeter around the site. None of them took pains to be hidden.

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