"Дон Пендлтон. California Hit ("Палач" #11) " - читать интересную книгу автора

avalanche onto the parking lot.
He pulled the China doll to her feet and roughly shoved her toward the
darkness - and his first words to her were an urgent command. "Run!" he
growled. "Run like hell!"
She ran, and Bolan went the other way, into hell, knowing that his
assault plan was busted wide open now, his greasegun thrust forward and
ready for the inevitable reaction from the enemy.
It came quickly. Three men staggered from the rear door and into the
light of the disaster, and immediately a strangled voice cried, "Jesus
Christ, it's him!"
The Executioner acknowledged their presence and recognition with a
sweeping welcome from the machine pistol, and they all lay down quickly,
brothers of the blood for real, now.
Another man ran into the scene from the front of the building. He slid
to a confused halt, then began a flatfooted, backwards dance, crouching and
firing at the apparition in black with a snubnosed revolver.
Bolan calmly stood his ground and zipped the guy with a short burst
from the greasegun, the firetrack sweeping up from ground level, splitting
the target up the middle and punching him over onto his back.
The Executioner went on, advancing across the bloodied body, and he met
another pair at the corner of the building with a blazing criss-cross burst
that sent them rolling along the walkway. A third man from that same group
scampered back through the main entrance, evidently preferring the inferno
in there to die hell outside.
And then a new and familiar element was added to the chaotic
environment - a police siren was screaming up from the Fisherman's Wharf
area.
Bolan checked his impulse to follow the fleeing Mafioso into the pagoda
and instead whirled about and returned to the parking lot. He paused there
long enough to press a marksman's medal into the limp hand of a fallen
gunner, then he fell back along the flagstoned walkway.
A secondary explosion occurred somewhere inside the joint. A portion of
the roof fell in and the flames leapt higher.
More sirens now... coming in from every direction... and Bolan mentally
tipped his hat to the quick reaction by the city - but his numbers had never
been more critical, and he knew that a successful retreat was becoming less
likely with every step he took.
A line of automobiles had come to a halt just up-range from the
disaster area and a collection of people were standing around in tight
little groups and gawking at the spectacular fire.
One of the onlookers spotted the armed man in black, and he reacted
visibly. Bolan stepped back and went the other way.
A police cruiser flashed across the street down range, and the deep
rumbling of fire trucks had now joined the sounds of the night.
Yeah... he had overplayed his numbers, all right.
The enemy had regrouped outside the flaming building, and a lot of
arm-waving and signal-calling was happening down there now. They would be
organized into a hot pursuit, very soon now.
Sirens were flying all around the area - and Bolan had known what to
expect if he dallied too long at the scene of combat. The entire