"Mack Bolan - Stony Man - Message to America" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bolan Mack)

knew Hawkins wouldn't risk giving away his own
position and the team's presence unless everything




came unglued. Despite the silencer, a close-range, cat-
astrophic brain shot with a .308 Winchester bullet
would be hard to conceal, what with the partial va-
porization of the skull and its contents and the cut-
string drop of the corpse.
McCarter shrugged his left arm, as if shaking out
a mild cramp. Cold steel slid down the inside of the
former SAS man's sleeve. The tips of his fingers
stopped the fall of the unsheathed Devil Dart. A fur-
ther twitch would drop the knurled handle of the
bead-blasted killing spike into his fist. Scuffles and
fights on the docks were not uncommon, but they in-
variably drew spectators. McCarter's attack, if that
proved necessary, would be quick and final, a single
thrust under the bearded chin to skewer the tongue
against the soft palate and drive the triangular point
deep into the man's brain.
Manning heard Hawkins's words through his own
earpiece and moved accordingly, shifting his burly,
six-foot frame to shield the action from view as much
as possible. Knowing Hawkins's fire lane to the target
and McCarter's striking range, he gave them both
plenty of room to work. No matter how the Russian
met his death, Manning was ready to lunge forward
and catch the falling body. In the blink of an eye, he
could tumble it over the pier's railing.
The Russian repeated his request, holding out his
hand. He didn't know how close he was to having
already enjoyed his last drink.
"P-yei svo-evo," McCarter said. "Drink your
own." He chugged the last of the contents and tossed
the bottle over his shoulder into the river. Then he
added, "Ee-de... v Rossiyu." "Go back to Russia."

"Svoloch! Basran!" the sailor cursed as he turned
away.
Manning leaned close and whispered, "What did
he say?"
"You don't want to know, mate," McCarter as-
sured him. Resting his elbows against the pier's rail-
ing, the Phoenix Force team leader resheathed the
Devil Dart, then checked his watch. The real-time sat-
ellite window was closing; in another twenty minutes
they would lose the scrambled uplink to the Stony