Survival Reflex. Don Pendleton

and industry are finishing the slaughter that began more than a hundred years ago.”

      “Is that what brought Bones to Brazil?”

      “It may surprise you that we never talked about his motives. He is a very private man. I was too grateful for his help to question it.”

      “Okay.”

      “You don’t believe me?”

      “I just want to understand what we’re all doing here,” he said.

      “The doctor heals. You’re here to save his life.”

      “And you?”

      She frowned again and said, “I’m not sure, yet.”

      They spoke little over the next hour, their silence broken only when Enriquez pointed out some animal or plant that posed a threat. On those occasions, Bolan listened, paid attention and moved on.

      She smelled the village from a half mile out, wood smoke and food in preparation for the evening meal. Before she could alert Cooper, she realized that he had smelled it, too.

      Clearly, he wasn’t just another handsome face.

      They were two hundred yards from contact when the first shot made her jump. Two more immediately followed, wringing from her throat a strangled protest.

      “Please, God, no!”

      Bolan released his weapon from its shoulder sling and plunged into the jungle, following the sounds. Fearing what she would find, Marta Enriquez clenched her teeth and followed him.

      A QUICK COUNT made it ten or fifteen shooters dressed in mismatched clothes, no military trappings other than their weapons. Bolan had no time to scout the village, making sure. The gunmen he could see were busy when he got there, herding unarmed Indians in the direction of a long house built from logs. Its thatch roof was already smoking. Bolan saw one of the raiders shoot a woman with a baby in her arms, a single bullet drilling both.

      He fired instinctively, a 3-round burst dropping the shooter in his tracks. Most of the raiders were distracted, but a couple saw the dead man drop and spun to find out where the killing shots had come from.