Don Pendleton - Deadly Payload

Tears cut through the sweat and grime on his cheeks.

They’d left him with an empty gun, to taunt him with the faint hope of a swift end.

“There are twelve more men at the base,” Tso called as loud as he could, feeling something pop in his throat. “Twelve men, with machine guns, and motion detectors as well as UAV drones!”

Tso took another deep breath and repeated his cry.

He shouted his report five more times, for a total of seven, when he heard the crunch of wet leaves under boots. His throat tightened as he looked up to see Carl Lyons standing over him. He held a 9 mm pistol by the barrel, handle presented for the Thai.

Tso reached up, swallowing. His fingers wrapped around the grip. He turned it over, and there was no magazine in place.

“You’ve got one shot,” Lyons told him. “Use it wisely. We won’t give you another.”

Tso nodded. “My people will tear you apart.”

The ENT commander tilted the barrel of the pistol between his lips and pulled the trigger, getting the hell out of Panama.

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