"Дон Пендлтон. Doomsday Disciples ("Палач" #49) " - читать интересную книгу автора

continued - against Laotians and Cambodians, against the Montagnards and
others who resisted relocation in the New Economic Zones. There was work for
killers in Vietnam, but Nguyen Van Minh was selected for a higher destiny.
In the name of the people he was carrying the fire abroad, exporting
the war to America.
Minh devised a cover for himself, simple but effective. He became a
refugee, his family murdered by a tyrant (true enough), carrying a new
gospel to the West (also true, in a way).
His church, the Universal Devotees, was Minh's crowning achievement.
Father Ho taught him the guerilla is a fish, swimming in an ocean of people.
In America, Minh was a fish out of water - until he fabricated his own
artificial sea. A reservoir of followers and hangers-on to do his bidding,
mask his purpose. In his mind, there was poetic justice in his plan, using
the spoiled children of the capitalist pigs as a lethal weapon.
As a gentleman of culture, Minh appreciated poetry.
They were half a million strong, and growing. He already saw results,
but the best was still to come. Soon the Devotees would realize its full
potential, working from within, generating chaos. If all went according to
plan...
Amy Culp's defection was a deviation from the script, but Minh felt
capable of dealing with it. Her escape, with the aid of outside forces, was
something else again, potentially disastrous.
His defenses were penetrated, soldiers lost. The girl was gone, and
with her knowledge of the church she was a menace - while she lived.
Setbacks, certainly, but Minh had learned to live with problems, cope
with adversity. The patient warrior was usually victorious in the end.
A knocking on the study door distracted him from private thoughts.
"Come."
Tommy Booth entered and closed the door. Minh studied his chief of
security: Tommy's normally intense face wore a haggard look he hadn't seen
there before.
The Vietnamese kept his voice low, barely audible across the room, so
Tommy had to move closer if he wished to hear.
"So?"
The soldier spread his hands, a helpless gesture.
"Gone," he said. "We lost her."
"And my elders?"
"Eleven down," Tommy told him. "Somebody tore them all to hell."
"Somebody," Minh repeated, frowning. "A confession of your ignorance.
Give me facts, Tommy."
Booth absorbed the slap without expression. He cleared his throat and
began again.
"Okay, fact. Some...an unknown intruder... took the girl away from Mike
and Gary. Killed 'em both. Then he took her in the Cadillac and crashed the
gate, wasted two more soldiers at the checkpoint.
"And fact. Two carloads of men overtook them on the road - five, six
miles west - and all of them are dead. I checked it out, and it looks like a
friggin' war zone."
Minh winced at the profanity. He disliked any form of personal excess.
"Your professional assessment?" he inquired.