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

and up the tall ladder to the parapet, toward the villa's southeast corner.
Mike Rideout was obediently following Kennedy's orders.
Bolan eyed Kennedy's heavily armed troops as he did so. In addition to
a few AK-47s, Galils and Largos, he also noted several new Beretta Model 70
assault rifles that Bolan knew to be capable of spitting out 5.56mm
death-dealers at a blistering 700 rpm.
Some of the mercs wore munitions belts heavy with grenades. Two men
seen by Bolan wore .357's on their hips Western-style, the way Bolan now
wore his Browning hi-power.
The only other small arms he could see were several SIG 9mm Parabellum
P210 autos. Some of the mercs carried these in underarm shoulder holsters.
"Rideout" had drawn duty with a U.S. merc named Teckert, who sat
perched behind a belt-fed Cartouche light machine gun, tripod-rigged atop
the wall's ledge. A sheet held up by four posts protected each of these gun
posts from the sun.
Teckert was a man of few words.
So was Bolan.
They got along fine.
Nothing moved beyond the villa walls. Utter stillness reigned.
At one point a Swede merc named Hohlstrom came along the parapet.
Teckert introduced Hohlstrom to Bolan. Hohlstrom barely nodded. His eyes
were dark marbles. His expressionless face was hard beneath a high
intellectual brow and a pate of thinning hair.
Hohlstrom said nothing to Bolan.
Hohlstrom and Doyle exchanged grunted monosyllables, then Hohlstrom
lumbered on. This was a world where a man kept his counsel unless he knew
well the man to whom he was speaking.
A few minutes later another merc approached along the parapet.
Apparently, Kennedy had roving sentries in addition to those at set
stations, like Teckert and Rideout.
This merc was a German national named Bruner. Teckert and Bruner knew
each other; there was a brief, low-keyed exchange between the two mercs as
Bolan eavesdropped.
"So what do you think of this scene, Teckert? Easy money so far?"
"So far."
"Reminds me of the time we took Brother Khaddafi's wages at Aozou in
Chad. Remember?"
Teckert spat over the wall.
"I remember. I hate these frigging desert jobs."
"But do you remember the women of Aozou?" prodded Bruner with a
guttural laugh.
Teckert grunted. "Yeah, I remember. Too bad we had to torch that
village."
Bruner snorted. "You should not think, my friend."
And he moved on.
Yeah, thought Bolan. These are the bad ones. These are the purest
enemy.
Don't think, huh? Very soon, Mack Bolan was going to force them to
think, even though it would be their last lesson.
He was going to teach them an essential paradox of warfare. He was