Don Pendleton - Threat Factor

That left two, huddled behind the second car.

Bolan considered setting fire to it, but couldn’t trust the plaza’s paving stones to strike a proper spark from ricochets, even if he could hit the fuel tank first and start a spill of gasoline.

Bolan’s companions had the targets pinned, giving him time to circle wide around their vehicle and come in from behind them. One of them saw Bolan coming, tried to raise his SMG too late and took a short burst in the chest. His friend was far too late recovering from the surprise, half-turned in profile when the Parabellum manglers hit him, tore him up beyond repair and put him down for good.

Mironov joined the Executioner beside the corpses, ready with her pistol if one of them tried to pull a Lazarus routine. When she was satified that they were dead, she said, “You run well, for a man…and an American.”

“I do my best,” he said, then nodded toward her car. “Will that still run?”

She smiled again. “Let’s try it and find out.”

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