"Дон Пендлтон. The Violent Streets ("Палач" #41) " - читать интересную книгу автора

no internal injuries, thank God. Three of her fingers were dislocated when
she tried to protect herself. And then... of course, she was raped."
"You know it could have been worse," Bolan said.
"Yes, it could have been worse."
Mack Bolan realized that his friend was walking on the razor-edge of
hysteria.
"Easy, Pol," he cautioned. "You've got to hold it together. For Toni."
"She could barely recognize me, Sarge," he said, swallowing. "They had
her so doped up... But when she made out who I was, she started crying, and
she said she was ashamed..."
Bolan cut him off. "When did the doctors decide to release her?" he
asked.
The question took Blancanales by surprise.
"Oh, they didn't. I just sort of checked her out on my own."
"How's that?"
"Well, goddammit, I couldn't leave her lying up there like a slab of
meat on display. She was dying inside, Mack. And the place wasn't what I
call secure. So I checked around, made sure the I.V. was only S.O.P. for
shock instead of life-support. Then I bagged an orderly's uniform from the
laundry room and picked up a wheelchair in the hallway. She was home in bed
before those turkeys knew that she was gone."
"You were taking one hell of a chance, Pol."
"You know, I believe it would have been a much bigger chance leaving
her there in the open," insisted Blancanales. "I have to check some things
out, see what's out of line."
He paused. There was anguish in his voice.
"Listen, Sarge, something's wrong with this case. I mean... hell, I'm
not sure what I mean, and I hate to say any more on an open line. Can you
come?"
What in hell do you say to an old friend and fellow warrior when he
tells you that his sister, a girl as close - closer - than your own, has
been trapped and torn by animals?
You tell him that you'll do anything to help, go anywhere.
Kill anyone.
Sure, all of that. You owe it to him, and to her.
You owe it to yourself.
"I'm on my way," the Executioner told his friend without hesitation.
And the meeting had been set for Holman Field, just over two hours from
Stony Man by light plane. Bolan allowed himself an extra hour for
preparation, and scheduled the meeting for midnight. The gratitude and
relief in the Politician's voice was full of pathos, almost more than Bolan
could stand.
Can you come?
Rather, ask: Can you turn your back on a friend in torment?
No.
It was not within Mack Bolan's power to ignore that plea for help. Not
if he could answer in the affirmative with the last breath of life.
The quality of caring and of empathy for the wounded and dying of the
hellgrounds had earned Bolan the nickname "Sergeant Mercy" on the Asian
battlefields, even while his marksmanship and coolness under fire were