Bolan turned about, the Beretta picking up on Gregor, the barrel settling on his head.
“Don’t convince yourself anyone else is coming to help. That was your last line of defense. There’s no one left. So right now it’s down to you, Gregor. Just you. What would your brother do? Is he the bigger man? The one who holds the reins? He left you to handle things and you messed up.”
Gregor’s expression changed. He took on the look of someone who knew he was failing badly but refused to accept his inadequacy. This was Gregor’s chance to prove himself, to show he was his brother’s equal.
“No. You’re wrong. I can do this. I don’t need any of them.”
“Show me how. All I’m hearing is talk.”
The hand holding the gun trembled slightly.
“You want this girl dead?” Gregor yelled.
“She’s the only card left for you to play,” Bolan said. “Without her, Leo definitely stays in jail. It’s your decision, Gregor.”
Bolan was watching Gregor closely, tracking the way the pistol jerked back and forth. Gregor Marchinski was close to losing it.
“Last chance, Gregor. Don’t lose your only bargaining chip.”
Sweat shone on Marchinski’s face. He reached up with the hand holding the pistol to wipe the moisture streaming down into his eyes, stinging and obscuring his vision. It was a brief, foolish gesture that gave Bolan the window he needed.
And there was no hesitation. The Beretta’s muzzle moved a fraction and Bolan shot Gregor. A head shot that put three slugs into Gregor Marchinski’s skull. He jerked aside, the back of his skull blowing open. A bloody spray of brain and bone fragments hit the wall behind him.
Bolan had instantly stepped forward, left arm reaching out to encircle Abby Mason’s slim form as she tried to pull away from Gregor. He snatched her clear and turned her away from Gregor’s bloody corpse as the man dropped to the floor.
He made for the door, Abby clinging to him, her face buried against his side.
Bolan paused on the landing, long enough to refresh the Beretta with a new magazine. He recovered the Uzi. As they descended the stairs, Bolan scanned the lower floor. Nothing moved.
They exited the door and cut to the left, clearing the house and making for the spot inside the tree line where Bolan had stashed his backpack.
“I want you to stay close to me,” he said.
Abby nodded, watching as he holstered the Beretta and fed a fresh mag into the Uzi’s grip, cocking the weapon.
“Are you going to take me home?”
Bolan glanced at her. The girl’s eyes were scanning his outfit and the weapons he carried.
“Your dad is waiting for you.”
For the first time, a smiled edged her lips.
“Are you one of the good guys?”
“I try to be. My name is Matt Cooper. Nice to meet you, Abby Mason.”
“There was a lot of shooting before you came to my room. Was that you?”
Bolan nodded. “Those men didn’t want me to take you away. It got a little noisy.”
“I took a look when we went down the stairs. I saw bodies. Did you shoot those men?”
Her question was direct, uttered with the frankness that only a child could deliver.
Bolan shrugged the bag across his back, tightening the carry straps.
“Yes,” he said. “They wanted to stop me from taking you home.”
“So that means you’re a policeman.”
“A kind of policeman.”
“Is my dad okay?”
“Yes. He’s been worried about you since those people took you away. He’s missed you very much.”
Bolan took her hand, feeling the girl’s fingers grip his. They had only gone a few steps when she stopped, staring up at Bolan.
“They killed Nancy,” she said. “They didn’t have to do that. It was cruel.”
“Sometimes people do cruel things, Abby, because they believe it’s necessary to get what they want. It isn’t. The men who did that to Nancy and took you were trying to force your dad to do something bad. But he refused and asked me to help.”
“I want to go home, Matt. Take me home.”
“We need to walk for a while to reach my car. You going to be okay?”
“Will there be other men looking for us?”
“I hope not. If anything does happen, just do whatever I tell you.”
Abby nodded.
It took them a quarter of an hour to reach Bolan’s SUV. He took the slim remote from the zip pocket in his pants and unlocked the doors. While Bolan slipped the backpack free, Abby scrambled into the vehicle and secured the seat belt. Bolan got behind the wheel and depressed the starter button. The deep growl of the SUV’s motor sounded.
He took out the cell he’d placed in the glove box and contacted Stony Man. Brognola answered his call.
“And?” the big Fed asked.
“I have a young lady on the passenger seat who can’t wait to see her dad.”
Brognola’s sigh of relief was expansive.
“Is she okay?”
“Ask her yourself,” Bolan said and handed the cell to Abby. “It’s your godfather.”
“Hi, Uncle Hal. Yes, I’m okay. No, they didn’t hurt me, but I got scared. They were not very nice people. I have a new friend now. His name is Matt. He’s going to take me home to my dad. Matt made the bad guys let me go. Yes, it was scary. Lots of shooting, but Matt had to do that because they wouldn’t let me go. I’ll see you later.” She thrust the cell at Bolan. “He wants you now.”
“Uncle Hal,” Bolan said.
“I’ll be a long time living that one down,” Brognola said.
“You will.”
“There’s no way I can say thank you enough. I don’t have the right words.”
“Just let her dad know we’re on our way.”
“That I can do. Take it easy, Striker. Come on home.”
Bolan ended the call, put the SUV into Drive and headed for the main highway. He drove steadily over the rough track. Beside him, the girl sat silently staring out through the windshield. She turned to look at him, and Bolan sensed something on her mind.
“Should I call you Uncle Matt?”
Bolan smiled. “Whatever you choose, Abby.”
“I think I’ll just call you Matt. Calling you Uncle makes you sound old.”
Bolan’s smile broadened as he thought about Brognola’s reaction to that statement.
Chapter 20
The squeal of rubber made Bolan glance in the rearview mirror. A pair of SUVs was coming up fast, one behind the other.
How the hell had they shown up so fast?
Someone must have made a call from the house once his presence had been known. It didn’t take that much time to hit speed dial and call for help. Even while Bolan had been putting down the Marchinski crew, reinforcements had been on the way.
None of that mattered right now. Bolan had hostiles on his six and a child in the car...the one he’d promised to take away from the Marchinskis.
Bolan stepped on the gas. The chase vehicles increased their speed.
This was not about to go away.
“Is something wrong?” Abby asked. “You keep looking in the mirror. Is it because of those two cars following us?”
“Yes. It looks like some of the bad guys are here. Somehow they found out what happened back there.”
“Oh. Matt, I think I know what happened. That man—Gregor—when he heard the shooting he made a call on his cell. I couldn’t understand what he was saying because he spoke in a foreign language. It might have been Russian but I’m not sure. He sounded scared.”
Bolan digested the words. He realized now why backup had arrived so fast. The Marchi
nski crew could have been maintaining an arm’s-length watch over the hideout. Close but not too close in case their presence became suspect. Bolan’s incursion had been missed until he encountered resistance, and Gregor’s call had brought the cavalry on the double. He suspected the additional watch had been mounted since he’d started stirring up trouble between the Marchinskis and Tsvetanovs. Both camps were nervous, hence the extra men in the vicinity of the safe house.
Regardless of the intercamp rivalry, the Marchinskis would be desperate to protect their pawn. As long as they had Abby Mason, they were in a commanding position. Losing her, whether to a bunch of cops or to Dragomir Tsvetanov, was not something they would want.
Bolan didn’t dwell too long on the whys of the situation. He was being pursued by a pair of enemy SUVs.
All he had were his weapons and his wits.
Plus an overwhelming desire to protect Abby Mason. He had freed her from her abductors. It was not in his nature to allow his success to be snatched away.
“Remember what I said earlier? About doing whatever I asked? No questions.”
“Yes.”
“In a little while, I’m going to tell you to jump out of the car and hide. I want you to stay hidden and not show yourself until I come back for you.”
There was a brief silence. “O-kay.”
“This is important, Abby. I need you to stay focused. There are cars following us. I need to deal with them.”
“They’re coming after me again?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
“Your dad told me you’re pretty good at martial arts.”
“Well, yes, but how’s that going to help?”
“Right now, Abby, I want you out of this car.”
“Why?”
“For what I have to do.”
“I don’t understand...” After a brief silence, Bolan knew she’d worked it out. “Oh. I understand now.”
“When I give you the word, just go. Tuck and roll, take cover and stay there until I come and get you.”
She didn’t argue. The girl had enough sense not to question what he intended doing, because it would undoubtedly involve some kind of violent action, and he wouldn’t want her close by. If he had to worry about her during some close action, it might distract him. The alternative, her being retaken by Marchinski’s men, was not an acceptable option.
“Dad always said my martial arts training might come in handy one day,” she said. “I never thought it would involve something like this.”
Bolan stepped on the gas pedal, swinging the heavy SUV around a sharp bend in the narrow trail, dust clouding in their wake. His eyes scanned the route ahead. He checked the rearview mirror again and calculated that it had taken around five seconds for the chase cars to negotiate the bend.
“You ready for this, Abby?”
“Mr. Cooper, there’s no other choice, is there?”
“Miss Mason, you guessed right.”
Abby unclipped her seat belt, leaning across to grip the door handle.
“Just tell me when.”
Bolan eased the SUV close to the side of the trail, feeling the tires bumping in the slight depression there. He held the wheel steady, fixing his gaze on the trail ahead. Dust still misted the rear view, kicked up by the SUV’s wheels. It would help to mask what he was about to have the girl do.
The trail dipped, swung to the left, and Bolan took the SUV in a swift curve. The pursuing vehicles disappeared from view.
Bolan hit the brakes, lowering his speed as he saw a thick fall of foliage coming up. No close trees to present obstacles.
“Abby. Now!” he yelled.
The girl didn’t question his command. She jerked on the door handle, pushed it open and went out. She hit the ground and executed a shoulder roll that threw her into the foliage. Her forward momentum took her through the greenery. Bolan leaned across and snatched at the door handle, pulling the door shut. When he looked in the rearview mirror Abby had vanished from sight....
* * *
ABBY FELT THE foliage envelop her. For a few seconds, everything was a blur of movement and noise. Dust from the departing SUV blew over where she had exited the car. She crashed deep into the greenery, her body jarred from the roll. Breath was driven from her as she landed. This was different from learning the moves on padded Tatami mats within the comfort of the dojo. Right now she had landed on hard earth and stones, with the tangled undergrowth as added discomfort.
She lay, winded, her senses jarred by the impact. As Abby tried to regain her breath, she heard the fading sound of Matt’s vehicle, then the roar of the two pursuing SUVs as they raced by. And then it became quiet. Abby lay where she was, feeling the ache of her bruised body. She moved her arms and legs. Nothing appeared broken. In fact, apart from the bruising, she seemed all right. After a minute she felt something warm running down her left cheek. She touched her face and felt blood trickling from a scratch. She rubbed it away. Abby sat up, then got on her hands and knees and moved back from the trail, deeper into the bushes. She kept moving until she was able to conceal herself fully. No one would be able to see her from the trail.
Now all she could do was wait until Matt Cooper came back for her....
Chapter 21
The moment Abby vacated the SUV, Bolan stamped on the gas pedal and sent the car in a headlong rush down the dusty trail.
He gained enough distance to bring the SUV to a slithering stop as he took it around a wide bend in the trail. Bolan went EVA, moving to the rear of his vehicle. He tripped the catch on the tailgate door and swung it up. Reaching inside, Bolan grabbed the large canvas tote stored in the trunk. He yanked the heavy-duty zip open and reached inside the bag.
Mack Bolan followed the old adage never take a knife to a gunfight. And never knowing what he might end up facing, he made certain his ordnance would cover all eventualities.
As he turned away from the SUV, he had an M72 LAW in his hands and was already extending the tube, feeling the unit click into place as it locked and cocked. Bolan stepped to one side, clearing the SUV. He wasn’t about to risk the backblast crippling his own vehicle.
The first pursuing SUV appeared, accelerating as it came around the bend. Bolan judged it to be around sixty feet away as he shouldered the LAW and found his target. The 66 mm projectile burst from the tube with a throaty sound, fins barely having time to extend as it covered the distance to the SUV. The HEAT warhead detonated as it went through the windshield, ripping the vehicle apart in an instant. The occupants were engulfed in the blast, bodies torn apart as the powerful explosion demolished the SUV. Flame and smoke gushed from the wreck and the SUV turned sideways, rolling for a few yards until it slammed against the thick trunk of a tree.
Bolan tossed the used LAW tube back inside the trunk, reaching for a preloaded H&K MP5. The 9 mm SMG had a 30-round magazine installed, the selector already on three-round bursts.
The second SUV had come to a jerky halt to avoid slamming into the burning vehicle, sliding on the dirt trail. Doors were thrust open before the car came to a full stop, armed figures moving into view. They skirted the wreck, one man raising an arm when he made out Bolan’s moving figure through the smoke.
“Get that bastard...”
They were his final words.
Bolan cut loose with the MP5, catching the man midsentence. The double burst of 9 mm Parabellum slugs chopped his legs from under him and he went down screaming.
The second man of the trio fired but was forced to pause, fanning smoke from his eyes. Bolan turned the SMG on the shooter, hitting him with a triple burst that reduced his features to a bloody mask. The man fell, clutching at his face.
The survivor, seeing his partners fall, decided to surrender. He threw aside his firearm and called out to Bolan.
�
�No more,” he rasped, coughing away smoke. “I quit. You got me.”
Bolan’s face was set as he took a couple of steps forward.
The hard guy dived to the ground, scrambling to draw a hideaway gun holstered on his ankle.
* * *
THE MP5 ROSE and spat out three more 9 mm slugs that ripped into the guy’s chest and opened up his heart. The Marchinski man went down without another sound.
“Now I’ve got you,” Bolan said quietly.
Then he delivered mercy rounds to the other two men.
Bolan returned to his SUV. He put his MP5 into the weapons bag, slammed the tailgate and climbed behind the wheel. Turning the vehicle around, he maneuvered past the Marchinski wheels. Behind him, black smoke rose into the open sky from the still-burning wreck.
He drove to the spot where Abby Mason had exited the SUV. Bolan stopped and eased out, his eyes picking out the broken foliage where she’d vanished in the greenery.
“Abby, time to go.”
“What’s the password?” he heard her muffled voice say.
Bolan failed to hold back a grin. “Mr. Cooper?”
The foliage crackled and swayed. Abby emerged looking disheveled and with a cut on one cheek.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Bolan nodded. “What about you?”
“I should get my black belt after that roll.”
“Yes, you should.”
“Are there any more coming after us?”
“I hope not.”
“I really would like to go home now.”
She reached out and took one of Bolan’s big hands in hers.
They walked back to the 4x4. Bolan got Abby inside and closed the door. He took out his cell and called Stony Man. Brognola picked up his call.
Maximum Chaos Page 13
