Pirate Offensive by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2014-11-08T05:00:00+00:00

Sazan Island, Albania

AFTER REFUELING THE Cessna at a public airport in Sicily and getting some much needed sleep at a private landing field on the tiny island of Corfu, Bolan continued the hunt.

Several of his hidden GPS tracers had gone dead. They’d either been found or had simply run out of power. But he had planned for the worst and stashed them everywhere on the Constitution, even inside the launch tubes of the missiles. He was down to only a handful, but they were still alive and responding.

According to his maps, the last cluster of GPS tracers seemed to transmitting from the Albanian island of Sazan, an abandoned Soviet submarine base situated in the Mediterranean Sea..

Staying below the radar, Bolan swept the area until he found a small island a few miles from Sazan. Easy swimming distance, despite the currents. Killing the engine, Bolan coasted the Cessna into the weeds and anchored it securely among the tall grasses. Deciding that wasn’t enough, he buried the vessel under a mound of loose plant life. Bolan waited for the moon to rise completely before proceeding. The light and smoke from a campfire, even a small one, on a deserted island could easily attract all of the wrong kind of attention. Bolan unpacked the Martin, then donned a black Ghillie suit, climbing boots and a 4 mm bulletproof vest. It wasn’t much, but it would stop almost any pistol round from penetrating. He’d, of course, still have massive trauma damage and possibly internal bleeding if he was hit in just the right place. But a slim chance at survival was better than none at all. Bolan added night vision goggles and started buckling on his assorted weapons. The last was an M16 carbine with sound suppressor.

When he was finally satisfied, Bolan checked over his weapons and supplies. It was rather like preparing to climb up the side of a mountain. Everything had to be secure but easily reached and in precisely the correct spot. If trouble came, he would not have the luxury of searching for a spare magazine or a medical kit. Seconds would count.

Bolan strapped himself into the Martin, double-checked the emergency release and then at the last moment decided to add an extra can of fuel to his chest. He was now, quite literally, a flying bomb, but that extra fuel might make all the difference.

Bolan hit the main ignition sequence, and the internal gyroscopes slowly revved to full power, building to a low hum.

Tightening his hands on the dual controls, Bolan gently squeezed, and the turbofans engaged. The wash from the bottom vents kicked out a swirling cloud of dust and sand as he lifted into the air and soared away.

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