Don Pendleton - Aftershock

“Yeah. It’s just going to make things a lot more difficult if we have to call in some favors to help him out,” Brognola stated.

“I put the word out to our people. If anyone’s cozy with the Jandarma, we won’t ask them for help. It’ll narrow down our resources, but…”

“Just do it,” Brognola said. “I’ll inform the President that we have Striker on the ground.”

“Hal,” Barbara spoke up.

“Mack will be okay. He’s been hunted by far worse than the Kongras and the Jandarma.”

“The Mafia and the KGB might have had better technology, but the Kongras and the Jandarma are as brutal as anything he’s ever faced,” Price stated. “They’ll peel a man alive for a week just to make him hurt.”

Brognola looked back at the photos. “You don’t make reassuring you any easier.”

Price nodded. “Reassurance is one thing. Outright lying is another.”

Brognola frowned. “If Striker’s alive, he’ll make it through. It’s what he does. He’s survived on his own for so long….”

The head Fed’s words trailed off as he looked at the stricken city in the photograph. If Mack Bolan had survived the earthquake, he’d do as much as he could to recover the relief supplies and save the shattered people of Van. Bolan was a man who would move heaven and earth to save lives, no matter what odds were stacked against him.

But Brognola realized full well that with two renegade paramilitary armies, and the aftermath of an earthquake against him, the Executioner was in for the struggle of his life.

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