Don Pendleton - Mission - Apocalypse

“You gotta be kidding me, man.” Dominico genuinely looked shocked that Bolan didn’t know. “That’s Cielo Ahora.”

Bolan watched the bald man gesture gracefully with hands the size of catcher’s mitts while his nubile assistants twisted like dreamy-eyed circus contortionists. “Heaven Now?”

“Change your life, man,” Dominico confirmed. “Changed mine.”

Bolan peered down at Dominico with sudden intuition. “This is why you retired from the life?”

“Hey, man, everybody’s got to grow up sometime. I been a legend twice. But Santo Solomon had two cracked vertebrae in his neck, and the doctors told him if he wrestled again he’d end up in a wheelchair. No one needed to tell King Solomon that he was going to wind up dead or in prison. Not that I cared, until a couple of years ago. Gavi helped me get my head right.”

“Gavi?”

Dominico grunted up at the screen and the bald man with the piercing eyes. “Gavi.”

“So you quit the life because you found God?”

“Found Gavi.” Dominico grinned. “The rest I’m working on.”

Bolan gave Dominico a long, calculating look. “Memo, you want to go for a ride?”

Dominico’s face went flat. “I’ve seen that movie, man.”

Bolan shrugged. The ruby dot of the laser never wavered from Dominico’s forehead. “I can kill you now.”

Dominico weighed the steel in Bolan’s blue eyes. “A ride is good.”

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