Don Pendleton - Omega Cult

SPLINTER SECT

North Korean terrorists unleash a devastating sarin-gas attack on Los Angeles: payback for US opposition to their homeland’s nuclear expansion. With casualties mounting and fear of future strikes on the rise, Mack Bolan follows the trail of violence to the zealous billionaire funding the deadly campaign. Taking him out—and saving thousands from an arsenal of suitcase bombs and biochemical weapons—will mean penetrating North Korea’s treacherous border. But the Executioner’s bloody pilgrimage won’t end until he sends this scum straight into the afterlife.

The house and grounds went dark, but Bolan knew exactly where his first three targets were.

Sweeping the muzzle of his scattergun across the patio, he triggered three quick twelve-gauge rounds, each blast spewing nine pellets of double-O buckshot, each pellet equivalent to a .33-caliber bullet.

His targets never knew what hit them, blown away and tumbling on the flagstone patio, awash in blood. Somewhere inside the house, a male voice shouted, challenging the sudden dark.

Light from the burning, melting generator shed showed Bolan where he had to go—rushing across the lawn through roiling smoke, past burning patches where napalm has set the grass on fire—and Chan stayed with him, matching stride for stride.

Whatever hell awaited them, they would be meeting it head-on.

Omega Cult

Don Pendleton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Staff Sergeant Robert James Miller Nari District, Afghanistan; January 25, 2008

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

Back Cover Text SPLINTER SECT North Korean terrorists unleash a devastating sarin-gas attack on Los Angeles: payback for US opposition to their homeland’s nuclear expansion. With casualties mounting and fear of future strikes on the rise, Mack Bolan follows the trail of violence to the zealous billionaire funding the deadly campaign. Taking him out—and saving thousands from an arsenal of suitcase bombs and biochemical weapons—will mean penetrating North Korea’s treacherous border. But the Executioner’s bloody pilgrimage won’t end until he sends this scum straight into the afterlife.

Introduction The house and grounds went dark, but Bolan knew exactly where his first three targets were. Sweeping the muzzle of his scattergun across the patio, he triggered three quick twelve-gauge rounds, each blast spewing nine pellets of double-O buckshot, each pellet equivalent to a .33-caliber bullet. His targets never knew what hit them, blown away and tumbling on the flagstone patio, awash in blood. Somewhere inside the house, a male voice shouted, challenging the sudden dark. Light from the burning, melting generator shed showed Bolan where he had to go—rushing across the lawn through roiling smoke, past burning patches where napalm has set the grass on fire—and Chan stayed with him, matching stride for stride. Whatever hell awaited them, they would be meeting it head-on.

Title Page Omega Cult Don Pendleton www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedication For Staff Sergeant Robert James Miller Nari District, Afghanistan; January 25, 2008

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.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

Los Angeles, California

Jang Il-woo, age twenty-three, boarded the Metro Express Line 442 at the Hawthorne/Lennox Station, at seven-thirty on Tuesday morning, bound for downtown LA. No one aboard the train noticed the slender Korean expatriate dressed in a cheap business suit, horn-rimmed glasses and black wingtips. Just another of the city’s countless worker drones, bound for an office job downtown and none too happy that he still had four full days to work that week.

As the train filled, passing through twenty-seven stations on its way to the Staples Center multi-purpose sports arena and the looming skyscrapers beyond, Jang kept eye contact with his fellow passengers to a minimum, staring out the window beside him, counting down the final minutes of his life. The briefcase sat between his feet, its deadly secret hidden from the others traveling their last few miles toward doom.