"Дон Пендлтон. The Libya Connection ("Палач" #48) " - читать интересную книгу автора

Kennedy smiled at the reflection in the dark glass.
Yes, it worked and here you are. You're sitting on a cargo worth enough
to get you into a life of comfort forever.
Enough time had passed.
Kennedy stalked across the office and locked the door from the inside.
Then he went directly toward what appeared to be a bare niche in one wall.
He was thinking that there was one man, a newcomer, here tonight who
might understand the truth about what kind of a man Kennedy really was. If
such was indeed the case, then that man might have ideas of his own. The
thought did not sit well with the boss merc.
Kennedy stepped up to the niche in the wall, then stooped down and used
his right-hand thumb to press on a part of the floorboard where wall met
floor.
The wall section slid sideways to reveal a steep narrow flight of
stairs.
Movie stuff, smiled Kennedy.
The wall slid noiselessly back into place behind him. Kennedy briskly
continued down the stairs.
He was thinking about the big, quiet man with the steely blue eyes.
Kennedy knew that a direct confrontation between himself and Michael
Rideout could only end in death. They were equals with regards to
capabilities. The big man had a look of deadly competence, the quiet look of
a true hellgrounder.
Kennedy had convinced himself that "Rideout" was not the guy's real
name. And that a confrontation with the big guy was somehow inevitable. It
was coming soon.
Tonight.
Along with everything else.

8

Mack Bolan, on combat duty in Vietnam, led his Penetration Able Team on
many successful classified missions behind enemy lines. Bolan was a
penetration specialist, a penetration master.
That was how he appreciated immediately, by taking position in the
background from where a soft surveillance could be maintained, the
interesting information that security at the Jericho villa in Bishabia was
very tight.
The Executioner felt a respect for Kennedy in the manner in which
Jericho's top merc had deployed his manpower to guard this villa. Subliminal
quivers in the psyche called Bolan to quick-pass a number of emplacements
that were planned to bite inward as well as out. This was the whole nine
yards here. It tickled something in his combat instinct, he felt the tremor
of the game now.
The death look they wore indicated that the soldiers in this base were
lethal even if they were also non-notable, the wolf pack fit to devour at
any moment, savages in every respect.
After he outfitted himself in the armory in desert camouflage fatigues,
and armed himself with a Galil, some grenades and a holstered Browning
hi-power, Bolan made his way across the villa's courtyard, past the Hueys