The Destroyer - 92 - The Destroyer 092 - The Last Dragon by Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir

Author:Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir [Murphy, Warren & Sapir, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Pulp Action
ISBN: 9780451175588
Publisher: PINNACLE BOOKS
Published: 1993-03-31T23:00:00+00:00

The thick-wristed man froze, as if hesitating. The expression on his high-cheekboned face said that he wanted to chase the others down more than anything else in the world.

The butterfly of an Asian spoke up then.

"Remo, she speaks wisdom," he said, his voice a grim squeak. "Let those worthless ones flee like the dogs that they are."

"If you say so," the other said in a reluctant tone.

And as they turned back, Skip King pounced on a dropped machine pistol and pointed it in the direction of the fleeing hijackers.

Before anyone could stop him, he emptied the clip, saying, "And don't come back, you disenfranchised rabble!"

Everyone looked toward the departing Congress for a Green Africa, expecting to see some fall wounded. They ran until the bush swallowed them.

"You," the man named Remo told King, "have got to be the world's worst shot."

"What do you want? It's dark out."

"You're welcome," Remo said.

Nancy stumbled out of the thorn brush and said,

"You'll have to excuse him. He watched too many Tarzan pictures as a boy."

"Big talk from someone who hid in the bushes while the men were doing all the fighting," King sneered, plucking out a clip and trying to jam in a second.

"I put her there," Remo said. "I should have stashed you and kept her."

King struggled with the stubborn clip. Not realizing he had been attempting to insert it backward, he threw it into the dirt. "Who asked you to butt in, anyway?" he snapped.

"Uncle Sam."

"The United States?"

"You're American citizens, aren't you? Who did you expect? The Royal Canadian Mounted Police?"

"Actually, I was hoping the Burger Berets would have shown up by now," said King, looking up into the fabulous starfield of the Gondwanaland night sky.

"The who?"

The sound of helicopters in the distance was like the rubbing together of horny wings, busy and insectlike. It grew to a clatter then swelled to a louder, fuller locust sound.

And suddenly the night sky above them was full of helicopters which sent down roving beams of lights.

In the moving patterns of light, snaky lines were dropped and men in midnight blue uniforms began rappeling down.

"Everyone stand clear!" an authoritative voice bellowed. "We're the Burger Berets!"

The man named Remo undertoned to Nancy, "The what Berets?"

"Burger."

"As in hamburger?"

Nancy sighed. "I'm afraid so."

She watched as men in midnight blue nylon jumpsuits hit the ground on ivory white boots. Disengaging themselves from the lines, they brought up AR-15 assault rifles.

King was storming about. "What took you so long!"

A man in a purple beret with a gold crown stitched in the front stepped up and executed a crisp salute. He was a colonel. The gold eagles that constituted his uniform insignia told that-although eagles didn't normally clutch a cheeseburger and a bag of french fries in each talon, Nancy realized.

The man in the purple beret executed a brisk salute. "Mr. King, sir. Colonel Mustard reporting."

"Mustard?" Remo said blankly.

"Code name. We're operating on foreign soil, as you know."

"That's no excuse for blowing the mission," King said bitterly.

The colonel looked at a wrist chronometer whose hands resembled french fries.

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