Uncut Terror. Don Pendleton. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Don Pendleton
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия: Gold Eagle Executioner
Жанр произведения: Морские приключения
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781474044684
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      Diamonds Aren’t Forever

      A legendary Kremlin assassin slaughters an American defector before he can be repatriated. Not about to let the murder go unpunished, Mack Bolan sets out to even the score.

      His first target is a Russian businessman with ties to organized crime, a man who was unexpectedly released from a Siberian prison. Bolan tracks him to the World Diamond Council meeting in New York City, where the Russians reveal their deadly endgame. Only one man can stop their scheme to crash the Western economy and kill hundreds of innocent people—the Executioner.

      “Our only chance is to get up this ladder to the street. Think you can make it?”

      Framer shook his head. “Leave me here. I’m too weak.”

      The man’s face was grayish. He needed medical attention soon, very soon. Bolan motioned for Grimaldi to go up first. Without another word he began scaling the iron rungs. Seconds later Grimaldi called down, “Clear up here so far.”

      Holstering the Beretta, the Executioner turned back to Framer. “Listen,” Bolan said. “I’m going to climb up the ladder. You hold on to me with all you’ve got. Ready?”

      Framer grunted a yes.

      Bolan waited for the man to secure his grip, then began climbing. The extra weight made every movement difficult, but the soldier continued the rigorous assent. When they were halfway up, Bolan tried to count the number of rungs to the top. Perhaps fifteen more.

      Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen—

      The iron rung under his left hand popped loose from its cement socket.

      Framer screamed.

      Bolan managed to tighten his grip on the other rung he was still holding, avoiding the deadly plunge. Thirteen had always been his lucky number.

      Uncut Terror

      Don Pendleton

      Wit must be foiled by wit; cut a diamond with a diamond.

      —William Congreve

      You can’t reason with terrorists. The men and women who deal in violence and fear can only be stopped by action. That’s where I come in.

      —Mack Bolan

Mack_Bolan_Legend.ai

      Nothing less than a war could have fashioned the destiny of the man called Mack Bolan. Bolan earned the Executioner title in the jungle hell of Vietnam.

      But this soldier also wore another name—Sergeant Mercy. He was so tagged because of the compassion he showed to wounded comrades-in-arms and Vietnamese civilians.

      Mack Bolan’s second tour of duty ended prematurely when he was given emergency leave to return home and bury his family, victims of the Mob. Then he declared a one-man war against the Mafia.

      He confronted the Families head-on from coast to coast, and soon a hope of victory began to appear. But Bolan had broken society’s every rule. That same society started gunning for this elusive warrior—to no avail.

      So Bolan was offered amnesty to work within the system against terrorism. This time, as an employee of Uncle Sam, Bolan became Colonel John Phoenix. With a command center at Stony Man Farm in Virginia, he and his new allies—Able Team and Phoenix Force—waged relentless war on a new adversary: the KGB.

      But when his one true love, April Rose, died at the hands of the Soviet terror machine, Bolan severed all ties with Establishment authority.

      Now, after a lengthy lone-wolf struggle and much soul-searching, the Executioner has agreed to enter an “arm’s-length” alliance with his government once more, reserving the right to pursue personal missions in his Everlasting War.

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       Introduction

       Title Page

       Quote

       Legend

       3

       4

       5

       6

       7

       8

       9

       10

       11

       12

       13

       14

       15

       Epilogue

       Copyright

       Prologue

      Krasnoyarsk Province, Siberia

      VASSILI STIEGLITZ, DEPUTY MINISTER of economic affairs, watched the bleak countryside flash past the window of the state sedan that had been waiting for him at the airport. Snow-capped mountains loomed in the distance and, as they passed through the small village on the outskirts of the prison, Stieglitz noticed the furtive glances from those walking or pedaling along the road. This remote place was the land of peasants. Those who didn’t eke out their pathetic existence in