"Bolan, Mack - Stony Man 30 - Virtual Peril" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bolan Mack)

"No," McCarter admitted. Most of them he recognized
from the dossiers supplied by Stony Man Farm. Learning
their identities hadn't been as important as keeping them
alive. Interaction hadn't been a facet of the operation.
A slim Japanese man with hard features drew abreast of
Ishii, then spit on the policeman's shoes and walked away.
"Not exactly a happy camper, is he?" Manning said.
"Not a camper at all," James said in a sarcastic voice.

"Notice the people that have obviously taken him under
their wing."
McCarter looked. The man in question was being taken
to a Mercedes, escorted by six young men in fashionable
attire and severe attitudes. The dislike between them and
the police officers was intense and immediate. Upon closer
inspection, the Briton noticed that two of the men had col-
orful tattoos that could be seen on their chests and arms in
the light issuing from the nightclub. "Yakuza," McCarter said.
"I'd be willing to bet on it," James said. There was a
click, and McCarter realized the ex-SEAL had palmed a
miniature camera and was snapping pictures of the man
who'd gotten out of the limousine with the representatives.
"Maybe," the Phoenix Force leader suggested, "this
means that our little stay in Seoul isn't going to be totally
without event."

"THEY'RE GETrING AWAY," General Sym stated.
Not looking away from the monitor reflecting the infra-
red satellite view where the SEALs were shown as duller
green man-shaped images now because the water cooled
their body temperature, Dixon Lynch said, "No, theY're
not." North of the SEALs' position, the Dragon's Gate was
a writhing mass of pale jade with scattered pools of emerald
around it. Lynch reached for the radio handset keyed into
the satellite uplink. "Peregrine Alpha, this is Chiprunner."
"Peregrine Alpha reads you, Chiprunner."
"Bring out the hammer." Lynch put the handset away
and continued watching as the satellite view picked up the
helicopters. The sensors were delicate enough to discern
the images of the men inside through the metal skin. Drums
rolled down ramps in each helicopter and spiraled out into
the ocean.




"What is that?" Sym asked.
· 'Depth charges," Lynch asked. He turned to the general
and smiled. "Never underestimate me. I'm not without re-
sources and cunning. They're set for forty to sixty feet. It