The Cartel Hit. Don PendletonЧитать онлайн книгу.
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BORDER RUN
When a Mexican national captures the murder of an innocent couple on video, Mack Bolan is tasked with protecting the young man and delivering his evidence to authorities. But then the killer turns out to be a high-powered cartel boss intent on destroying any trace of his crime—including the witness. Suddenly the man with the video is running for his life, and Bolan has no choice but to join the chase.
A hired assassin and his army of trained killers outnumber Bolan in the unfamiliar Mexican territory, and he must rely on quick thinking and guerrilla-style tactics to wipe out the enemy and ensure the safety of the one man who can shutter the gang’s operations for good. The cartel is fighting dirty, but the Executioner is about to lay down his signature brand of cleansing fire.
The a la muerte soldier took another step closer accompanied by the clink of metal on metal
The Executioner sprang from his hiding spot, driving his left hand forward to grasp the guy’s throat, striking hard at the exposed torso with his right. The Tanto’s cold blade sliced through clothing and sank in up to the hilt. Bolan felt the man shudder as he slid the knife left to right to extend the wound.
Bolan pulled the weakening man in against the log, leaning on him hard. When all movement ceased, he pulled out the knife and cleaned the steel blade against the man’s shirt, then sheathed it.
He could hear faint noises coming from the headset the man was wearing. Bolan slipped it off the body, held the earpiece close and listened to the transmission.
“Enrico, what is going on? Talk to me. Where are you?”
“I found him,” Bolan said, keeping his voice low. “You want to come and see?”
There was a brief silence.
“Who are you?”
“The one you cannot find. The one who is going to send you to hell.”
The Cartel Hit
Don Pendleton
There is no witness so terrible and no accuser so powerful as the conscience that dwells within us.
—Sophocles
Some men don’t have a conscience, or choose to ignore it. When conscience fails, that’s where I step in. With guns blazing.
—Mack Bolan
Nothing less than a war could have fashioned the destiny of the man called Mack Bolan. Bolan earned the Executioner title in the jungle hell of Vietnam.
But this soldier also wore another name—Sergeant Mercy. He was so tagged because of the compassion he showed to wounded comrades-in-arms and Vietnamese civilians.
Mack Bolan’s second tour of duty ended prematurely when he was given emergency leave to return home and bury his family, victims of the Mob. Then he declared a one-man war against the Mafia.
He confronted the Families head-on from coast to coast, and soon a hope of victory began to appear. But Bolan had broken society’s every rule. That same society started gunning for this elusive warrior—to no avail.
So Bolan was offered amnesty to work within the system against terrorism. This time, as an employee of Uncle Sam, Bolan became Colonel John Phoenix. With a command center at Stony Man Farm in Virginia, he and his new allies—Able Team and Phoenix Force—waged relentless war on a new adversary: the KGB.
But when his one true love, April Rose, died at the hands of the Soviet terror machine, Bolan severed all ties with Establishment authority.
Now, after a lengthy lone-wolf struggle and much soul-searching, the Executioner has agreed to enter an “arm’s-length” alliance with his government once more, reserving the right to pursue personal missions in his Everlasting War.
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