Executioner 224 - Call to Arms by Call to Arms

Author:Call to Arms [Arms, Call to]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

9

The guns were easy. Bolan had been supplied with names of two arms dealers, passed along to Hal Brognola from the CIA, and all the cash he needed to acquire a miniarsenal. The dealer he selected had a pawnshop on the south side of Victoria and kept his stock of weapons in a fire-resistant vault with double combination locks. There was no dickering on price, and dollars were acceptable in place of rupees.

When Bolan left the shop, he felt prepared to tackle anything that might come up in the Seychelles. One OD duffel bag contained the weapons he had purchased, while a second held the ammunition and explosives. A new Beretta Model 92-S hung beneath his arm in fast-draw leather, and a sound suppressor to fit the side arm was included in the deal.

An hour later, Bolan stood atop the roof of a twelve-story office building in downtown Victoria and gazed across the boulevard at another building some fifty paces distant. He was checking out the next floor to the top, where slightly tinted windows let him pick out moving shapes behind the glass.

After a moment, he knelt, removed a newly purchased sniper rifle from the duffel at his feet and opened up the folding wooden stock. The piece was an Israeli Galil, chambered in 7.62 mm and fitted with a Nimrod telescopic scope, designed to score head shots at any range up to 300 meters, with a guarantee, in skillful hands, of upper-body hits at twice that range. A semiautomatic weapon, the Galil featured a folding bipod and held twenty rounds in its detachable box magazine. With the suppressor snug in place, its barrel measured twenty-seven inches overall.

He scanned the target window, left to right and back again, first counting heads, then studying the faces. There were four men in the room, but Bolan wanted only one of them. The others were unknown to him, presumably employees or associates of the man he intended to kill. His mark would be the one behind the massive desk, smoking a fat cigar and talking with his hands.

Rene Bruton ranked eighth or ninth among the richest men in the Republic of Seychelles. Ostensibly his fortune came from copra, and indeed, his family had been doing very well in the business for several generations. Lately, though, Bruton had taken it upon himself to broaden the horizons of the family business to include cocaine and heroin. He stayed in business and remained at liberty thanks to connections with the same government that had decided it would be a good idea to welcome foreign fugitives as paying guests. Around election time, Bruton was known for generosity to both established parties, and he always had a list of well-placed friends in government.

It was an easy shot, compared to some that the Executioner had made. The thick glass might deflect his first round, but that still left nineteen in the magazine, and Bolan had no doubt that two or three would be enough to do the job.

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