Triangle of Terror by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2013-08-28T04:00:00+00:00

14

He had been around the hard way. Thus, in his vast bloody experience, Braden knew that when a man believed the world was out to get him, the truth on that grim score wasn’t far behind—double-timing it, in fact, to catch and grind him up.

These were the facts of life.

One thorn in his side, Durham, was suddenly making noise he might be forced to come partially clean with the President when Camp Triangle was abandoned, what with the bodies of fifteen Marines strewed all over the grounds, the killers—TFT traitors—in the wind.

Talk about shearing the scapegoat, Braden thought angrily.

The man with the big plan, he thought, safe on the sidelines for the time being, counting on, maybe secretly admiring the dragons who could burn up the other guys in a fiery battlefield spume of blood and guts. But it was always the cannon fodder who ended up holding the shit end of the stick. Why was that, he wondered, and why, did Durham feel he deserved salvation? Why should he be first in line?

Any way it was hacked, Braden knew he would have his neck in the noose within hours, he’d be one of the planet’s most wanted scumbags. Durham would surely mix half-truths with bald-faced lies to cover his own assets while steering blame his way and urging the President to marshal a hunting expedition until he uncorked the genie for his own big event.

And then there was Compton. What a pain in the ass, Braden thought as the general intercepted him as soon as he stepped from the armory, bombarding him behind the foul winds of whiskey with the latest round of worry and fear, pointing at the Gulfstream as it lifted off for points unknown with Mohammed Bal-Ada in tow.

If nothing else, the general would be easy enough to reach out to and eliminate.

“I can see it,” Braden snarled, wondering if he shouldn’t just unsling his submachine gun and drop Compton, there and then. The guard towers were manned by his men, after all, part of the deadly plot about to see fruition, as soon as the hired guns from Ciudad del Este were in place, and Turkle and Hanover returned to lead the attack.

And then there was Stone, poised to drop the hammer on the place, he was sure, Compton railing on about how Washington surely knew by now they were running a Gestapo-style prison camp.

No question, their number was up.

“I don’t like this, Colonel. What we’re about to do is an abomination, sacrilege, you want the truth, to the uniform! What kind of soldier are you? Killing Arab fanatics, the dung of the earth who murder the innocent is one thing, but you’re prepared to murder United States Marines, young guys, most of them, husbands and fathers, for God’s sake.” Compton was sounding hysterical.

“General, trust me, when I tell you God wants nothing to do with us. Nothing at all,” Braden said.

He suspected it was all really beyond hope. Standing there, ready to sink in

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