Death List by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2017-10-18T04:00:00+00:00

11

Mack Bolan hit the first of the gargoyles and felt the air pushed from his lungs. He nearly carved himself up on the remnants of the glass pane still lodged there. Rolling, he leaped to the next gargoyle, then to an outcropping that ran horizontally across the Art Deco façade.

Fifteen more floors to go, he thought.

It took longer than he wanted it to, and it felt slower than it was, but he managed to make his way down the front of the building. Grimaldi’s truck was at the curb, the engine running, when Bolan’s combat boots hit the sidewalk. Scattered glass debris crunched under the Executioner’s feet as he ran for the truck.

“Hurry, Sarge!” Grimaldi shouted. “They’re coming through the lobby!”

“Federal agent!” Bolan shouted to the nearby pedestrians. “Clear this sidewalk!”

People scattered. Bolan didn’t waste time looking back toward the bank. Grimaldi had the passenger door of the armored SUV open and Bolan dived inside. He got the door shut just as the first rounds began to hit the truck.

“Go, go, go!” Bolan ordered. Grimaldi nodded and laid on the gas. The big SUV had a beefed-up power plant, a much more powerful engine than came standard on even the top-of-the-line Suburban. The beast growled as Grimaldi pushed them into traffic, weaving in and out of the other vehicles.

“We need to get as far from population as we can, Jack,” Bolan said. “We can’t engage them while we’ve got so many civilians around.”

“I’ve got just the thing, Sarge. Did some looking through the map while I was waiting.” He put the accelerator to the floor.

Bolan checked the side mirror. Several fast-moving SUVs, silver Land Rovers, were coming up behind them.

“What is it about these merc outfits and matching vehicles?” Grimaldi grumbled.

“Faster, Jack. We need room to fight. Room away from innocents.”

“You got it, Sarge. We’ll take the bridge then the highway.”

They couldn’t run in a straight line forever. “I’ve got an idea.” Bolan hit the speed-dial on his phone. Barbara Price answered.

“Striker?”

“Barb, no time,” he said. “Somewhere in Philadelphia, I need something big. Something vacant. A warehouse maybe. Something where there will be no people. Track our GPS and route coordinates to Jack.”

“One moment, Striker.”

“Striker, Bear here,” said Aaron Kurtzman, now on the line. “We’ve found you something. Sending the route to your truck now. It’s a massive industrial property, almost 78,000 square feet of vacant trailer-loading space complete with loading docks and a big lot surrounding it. Take 95 North, parallel to the river.”

“Got it,” Grimaldi said. Impossibly, the SUV picked up a little more speed. Already, the engine sounded like it wanted to tear itself off the truck’s chassis. They continued on, the Land Rovers closing the distance despite Grimaldi’s best efforts to lose them.

“We can’t let them get close enough to start taking shots at us,” Bolan said. “Not while we’re still on a public highway.”

“Understood, Sarge,” Grimaldi replied, nodding again. “Don’t worry. We’re almost—” He stopped, focusing all his attention on driving. Bolan held on as

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