Don Pendleton - Blood Rites

BAD BLOOD

A gun battle between rival gangs terrorizes shoppers at a Miami mall, but Mack Bolan knows that cleaning up the mess in Florida is just the beginning. One gang’s main operation leads back to Jamaica, where its drug trafficking business is flourishing. And so is the practice of voodoo and human sacrifice.

Infiltrating the gang on its own territory is a deadly challenge. With most of the island on the cartel’s payroll or too afraid to come forward, Bolan’s only ally is a Kingston police officer. But no matter the odds, the Executioner will do whatever it takes to bring down the drug lord and his army of killers.

How many left?

One man from the first car, at least three from the third, if he’d taken out its driver. Bolan still had work to do, and he was running out of time before some passing driver heard the sounds of battle and called the cops.

The one thing Bolan would not do, regardless of the circumstances, was initiate a firefight with police. He’d made a vow that he would never drop the hammer on a cop. Law enforcement officers, in Bolan’s mind, were “soldiers of the same side.” He’d evade them by any means, but would always stop short of lethal force.

Which meant he had to mop up his remaining enemies and get out of there before the police arrived.

Tick-tock.

He was about to go after the shooters from the third car when a flash of light alerted him to trouble. It was the Marauder’s dome light, coming on because one of its doors had opened. The woman bolting out of panic at the gunfire? Or had someone found her?

Either way, he had to check it out, but he couldn’t leave enemies behind while his back was turned.

Mouthing a curse, the Executioner moved out.

Destroy the seed of evil, or it will grow up to your ruin.

—Aesop,

“The Swallow and Other Birds”

Evil takes root wherever good men close their eyes. Only scorched earth can kill the seeds.

—Mack Bolan

THE

MACK BOLAN

LEGEND

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.

Contents

Cover

Introduction How many left? One man from the first car, at least three from the third, if he’d taken out its driver. Bolan still had work to do, and he was running out of time before some passing driver heard the sounds of battle and called the cops. The one thing Bolan would not do, regardless of the circumstances, was initiate a firefight with police. He’d made a vow that he would never drop the hammer on a cop. Law enforcement officers, in Bolan’s mind, were “soldiers of the same side.” He’d evade them by any means, but would always stop short of lethal force. Which meant he had to mop up his remaining enemies and get out of there before the police arrived. Tick-tock. He was about to go after the shooters from the third car when a flash of light alerted him to trouble. It was the Marauder’s dome light, coming on because one of its doors had opened. The woman bolting out of panic at the gunfire? Or had someone found her? Either way, he had to check it out, but he couldn’t leave enemies behind while his back was turned. Mouthing a curse, the Executioner moved out.

Title Page Blood Rites Don Pendleton

Quotes Destroy the seed of evil, or it will grow up to your ruin. —Aesop, “The Swallow and Other Birds” Evil takes root wherever good men close their eyes. Only scorched earth can kill the seeds. —Mack Bolan

MB Legend THE MACK BOLAN LEGEND 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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Epilogue

Copyright

Dolphin Mall , Sweetwater, Florida

“He’s late,” René Bertin announced.

“I know he’s late,” François Raimonde replied. “You think I can’t tell time?”

“Just sayin’.”

“Well, stop sayin’, unless you got a way to hurry him.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Then shut up.”

Raimonde had always wondered why the county named its largest shopping mall after a fish, until somebody told him it was named after a football team. That pacified him for a while, until he learned the team had no connection to the mall, which irritated him again.