Don Pendleton: Agent Of Peril

At least three more shooters were on the other side of the pickup truck. He’d been in this position before and he wasn’t about to panic.

He drew back from the Peugeot, putting ten yards between himself and the vehicle to get a better view of what was going on. Four gunners were making slow advances. They were concentrating on the truck, and not beyond it. He unleathered the Beretta, slipping a fresh magazine into it. He was going to get as many of them off guard as he could, and the pistol, though at the extreme of its range, was the only tool for this bloody trade.

This mission wasn’t finished, but the Executioner was back on the road to seeing justice served.

#240 Devil’s Guard

#241 Evil Reborn

#242 Doomsday Conspiracy

#243 Assault Reflex

#244 Judas Kill

#245 Virtual Destruction

#246 Blood of the Earth

#247 Black Dawn Rising

#248 Rolling Death

#249 Shadow Target

#250 Warning Shot

#251 Kill Radius

#252 Death Line

#253 Risk Factor

#254 Chill Effect

#255 War Bird

#256 Point of Impact

#257 Precision Play

#258 Target Lock

#259 Nightfire

#260 Dayhunt

#261 Dawnkill

#262 Trigger Point

#263 Skysniper

#264 Iron Fist

#265 Freedom Force

#266 Ultimate Price

#267 Invisible Invader

#268 Shattered Trust

#269 Shifting Shadows

#270 Judgment Day

#271 Cyberhunt

#272 Stealth Striker

#273 UForce

#274 Rogue Target

#275 Crossed Borders

#276 Leviathan

#277 Dirty Mission

#278 Triple Reverse

#279 Fire Wind

#280 Fear Rally

#281 Blood Stone

#282 Jungle Conflict

#283 Ring of Retaliation

#284 Devil’s Army

#285 Final Strike

#286 Armageddon Exit

#287 Rogue Warrior

#288 Arctic Blast

#289 Vendetta Force

#290 Pursued

#291 Blood Trade

#292 Savage Game

#293 Death Merchants

#294 Scorpion Rising

#295 Hostile Alliance

#296 Nuclear Game

#297 Deadly Pursuit

#298 Final Play

#299 Dangerous Encounter

#300 Warrior’s Requiem

#301 Blast Radius

#302 Shadow Search

#303 Sea of Terror

#304 Soviet Specter

#305 Point Position

#306 Mercy Mission

#307 Hard Pursuit

#308 Into the Fire

#309 Flames of Fury

#310 Killing Heat

#311 Night of the Knives

#312 Death Gamble

#313 Lockdown

#314 Lethal Payload

#315 Agent of Peril

Agent of Peril

Don Pendleton

A glorious death is his Who for his country falls.

—Homer

Iliad c. 1000 BC

I am the Executioner. I have done what no soldier has ever done. My wrath is turned against those who are the enemy of the innocent. If you want to stop me, you’ll have to kill me.

—Mack Bolan

To the soldiers who gave their lives in Operation Iraqi Freedom. The critics and the cynics can debate the why, but your how was impeccable.

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

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

The soldier did a flip over the slab of cracked, pockmarked stone, heartbeats ahead of the slashing rain of incoming fire. Bullets hammered the rock with incessant fury, trying to reach the flesh that had escaped them only moments before. Glancing around, he realized he was in a bad situation, surrounded on all sides by grim, determined enemies. Rubbing his gravel-stung cheek, he saw the shell of an old building, but his enemies, armed with grenades and assault rifles, would blow him out of that ruin easily, if they didn’t slice him in two in the first place. This was nothing new to the grizzled veteran, muscles drawn tight as he prepared for yet another brutal clash.

He pulled the clip from his Uzi and saw it had only five shots left. He poked up his head, but his enemy was out of sight. He narrowed his eyes, knowing that they were gathering courage to make their move.

“You might as well give it up! You’re surrounded and outgunned!” the invisible enemy called out.

“Bring it!” It was a simple invitation.

That’s when he heard the pounding footsteps. Weapons sounded on the other side of the stone, cries ringing as the enemy charged.

He had to time it exactly right.

The weapons stopped popping and the soldier rose, swinging his Uzi. The pause in the shooting, he hoped, was the end of their supply of ammo and they’d have to reload. Five shots, one for each pull of the trigger, flew out of the barrel. One, two, three enemies went down, screaming as their chests were stitched, but one was still left charging, struggling to recharge his rifle on the run, feet pumping as he surged forward.

“Hey, you kids!”

The illusion was broken in an instant. The paintball sailed wide and to the right as the pistol snapped off its pellet.

Liev de Toth was no longer a soldier pitting his might against the forces of evil; he was just a teenaged boy on the West Bank, playing with his friends. The jolt of reality was ice water, cooling him off from gleeful excitement. As he was on the downward surge of play-induced adrenaline, fear cut in and spiked him up again.

Old Man Strieber had to have heard the gas-powered sound of the paintball guns as they spit their pellets. Liev snapped his head around and picked up his scratched and battered Uzi. It looked like a real soldier’s weapon with duct tape and tattered cloth around the stock. The scratches only added to its character.

Strieber was getting closer, moving as quick as his bum knee could carry him, which was still quick. He’d taken a bad fall and tore the ligaments while a paratrooper in the army. When he wasn’t busy growing apricots in the field, he still exercised and trained his farmhands and whoever else would come to learn the art of using a rifle. The old soldier didn’t approve of paintball gunning, said it wasn’t a safe way to train, but Liev and his friends liked the fun of it. The fact that Liev hadn’t been shot in a half dozen sessions, even against huge odds, added to the teenager’s feeling that running and gunning with the paintball guns was of vital usefulness.

“C’mon Liev! Let’s go!” Raffi shouted, and Liev raced away from Strieber’s equipment shack and back toward the settlement in the valley.

“We almost got you today, man,” Jan spoke up as Liev joined the knot of friends.

Liev took their shared gym bag and threw his gun in with the rest of them. “When I sign up, I’m going to be one hell of a soldier. Look out Hezbollah!”

Liev was going to say more when he felt a deep rumbling in the ground. He paused, looking back at the Strieber farm.

One at a time, the five teenaged boys stopped, looking back at the three churning trails of dust snaking and writhing into the sky. There was something familiar about them that eluded the youths for a moment, but the accompanying sound, akin to some metallic beast incessantly clearing its throat, brought the knowledge to life.

“Tanks?” Liev asked. “Here?”

“Maybe it’s maneuvers,” Jan said, unconvinced even by his own argument.