Don Pendleton: Outback Assault

EUGENE WAYLON KNEW that it wouldn’t take the big bastard long to meet up with Red. He’d toyed with the idea of calling the Darwin police department to let them know about an arms deal going down in their backyard, but he knew the cops might not be enough to take down the man who’d reduced Wade Augustyn to a bloody pulp in the middle of his own living room.

Besides, calling the police wasn’t in Waylon’s repertoire. He did get on the horn, however. Not to the Chinese. If the Black Rose Triad had learned that their safe, sanitized Western assassin was permanently out of action and replaced by a fake, Waylon knew that his own life would be forfeit.

He decided to get in touch with the men Augustyn sometimes called in for backup. There were four of them, members of a U.S. Marine detachment who had gone AWOL in the Philippines when they had come under suspicion of hiring themselves out to local gangsters as muscle. Going into hiding, the former Marines simply expanded their moonlighting activities for the Filipino mobsters to become full-fledged mercenaries. As hired guns, they were among the best, well-trained marksmen, and a disciplined fire team. The renegades’ escape had squashed the Marines’ and Navy’s efforts to make an example of them.

Waylon heard Garrett Victor’s gruff voice as the squad leader picked up. “What?”

“It’s Waylon. I’ve got work for you,” the businessman said. “Where are you?”

“Kickin’ back in Sydney,” Victor replied. “Having fun. Wade need help?”

“He needs avenging,” Waylon corrected.

“What the fuck?” Victor growled.

“Someone killed him, and he’s now going on an operation in Darwin,” Waylon explained. “I need this bastard taken down, preferably without the Black Rose finding out.”

“Why not get the triad to take this mook down?” Victor asked.

Waylon sighed. “And let them know that their number-one foreign asset has been compromised?”

“He’s still going to be dead. They give you another job…”

“How’d you like some fat triad money, Gar?” Waylon asked. “You and the boys living higher on the hog, and you won’t have to pull grunt work like sitting on a cargo freighter, chasing off pirates.”

Waylon could hear the gears turning in the greedy mercenary’s brain.

“This guy took out Wade, though,” Victor stated. “He’s obviously bad news.”

“That’s why I’m calling you and the boys,” Waylon explained. “The four of you could outfight anyone.”

“It’ll take us a while to get a flight to Darwin.”

“I’ll arrange it all for you. You can pick up the tickets at the counter,” Waylon informed him. “Do I have you on board, or do I have to look elsewhere for someone with balls?”

“Nobody tells me I ain’t got balls, Eugene,” Victor snarled. “I’ll rouse the boys and we’ll bring this fucker’s head to you.”

Waylon smiled, and told them at which airline they could pick up their tickets.

With a group of easily goaded, overly macho thugs like these four, Eugene Waylon could not only recover from the loss of Augustyn, but continue living in the style he was accustomed to.

But first things first. The tall man in black was going to have to die.

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