Caseless assault gun. This smooth exterior is a very tough plastic with the one scope mount an integral part of the receiving molding. That makes the scope available as a carrying handle. And this little switch here allows you to go automatic to semiautomatic to single-shot.'
'It looks like something out of the future.'
'Yes, it does. But don't let its streamfined looks fool you. This baby can deliver. Its magazine holds fifty in- line caseless cartridges, mounted right here in a horizontal bar along the barrel, extending all the way back to the receiver. There's no recoil and no bullet casings flying all over the place. Its caliber is four-point-seven times twenty-one millimeters and, in full automatic, it fires around one thousand rounds per minute.'
'Nice,' commented Tanya distantly.
'The ammunition has a muzzle velocity approximately three thousand one hundred feet per second. And its ammunition uses a propellant whose cook-off point is one hundred degrees higher than the standard nitrocellulose powders which.'
She waved a dismissing hand. 'Yes, yes, Sergeant. I am convinced of its usefulness. You may stop your sales pitch.'
'The base has a consignment of one dozen of these, but this is the only one that's gotten 'lost' so far...'
Tanya Morganslicht glanced at Bolan with a special curiosity. 'You look and sound like a man who understands killing well,' she said. Then her voice became hard again. 'We'll take it, plus the rest. How much?'
All talk of prices was interrupted by the clatter of heavy combat boots, echoing under the metal roof. The shout of military commands fissured the still air.
'This is Major Thompson, Grendal,' a deep voice hollered. 'We know you're in here and we know what you've been up to. I have Cottonwood in my custody.'
'Son of a bitch,' Bolan muttered, extinguishing the small flashlight. Lights beyond their hiding place flashed all over the interior of the big building.
'What's happening?' Tanya whispered, her voice and features almost psychopathically calm.
'Oh, nothing, just that they know about us and what we're doing here and they're going to arrest us. You'll probably get thirty years in prison and I'll be shot sometime next week while trying to escape. That clarify the situation for you?'
'I must not be caught,' she said urgently.
'Hey, I'm with you, lady. Now tell it to those bozos. They get all mushy inside when they hear a sad story.' Bolan poked his head through the doorway, saw the men taking positions, ducked back in. 'There's only one way out of this.' He went back to the crates and picked up the Heckler and Koch G-11. He slapped in a magazine, then grabbed four square magazines'and stuffed them into his pockets. 'Here,' he said, handing Tanya his Beretta pistol. 'You use this.'
'Why not give me one of the submachine guns? I can give better cover with one of them.'
'Because I'm the one giving cover. You're the one running. The only chance we have is to blast a hole through them just big enough for us to make a break. Now let's go!'
The major's voice boomed again. 'We know you're in that shithole. So come out here with your hands up. Now, soldier!'
Bolan stuck his head through the doorway again, the H and K clutched to his chest, the setting on full automatic.
A single shot echoed through the building and a bag of fertilizer two feet from Bolan tore open and spilled its contents onto the floor.
Bolan ducked back in, took a deep breath, then ran through the doorway, his finger squeezing the trigger. The H and K sent forth a thunderous symphony of explosions as it chewed up wooden crates and popped fluorescent lights.
Tanya Morganslicht did not have to be told what to do. She hunched low and dashed down the narrow alley of stacked crates. Bolan followed ten feet behind, spraying an arc of bullets to cut their way through.
A burst from a submachine gun kicked up wood and dust in their trail, but nothing came too close to them.
Until the exit door. Two guards stood side by side with .45's blasting at Tanya and Bolan. Tanya dropped to the ground, rolled once, and fired the Beretta twice. The soldier on the left threw up his rifle and sprawled forward onto his face. Tanya fired twice again from her prone position and the other soldier spun around and tumbled over a small hand truck. Bolan dragged her to her feet as he ran by her. They came through the door, guns ready, but no one was waiting.
'This way.' Bolan bolted across the street to the three parked jeeps that had brought the soldiers. Over his shoulder he heard men at the door of the building. Bolan swung around and blasted ten rounds at the doorway. There were cries of pain.
'Start it up,' he commanded as the woman terrorist clambered into the lead jeep. Bolan fired more rounds at the door. He jumped into the jeep as it roared to life and lurched down the road toward the checkpoint booth.
He reached over and grabbed his Beretta from Tanya. 'We'll need the silencer for this next part.'
'Isn't it a bit late for stealth now, Sergeant?' she gasped in desperation. It took the squealing jeep less than a minute to make it back to the checkpoint, the tires smoking the whole way.
The two men inside the booth jumped out at the sound of the tires, one with a .45 drawn and the other with his M3A1 at the ready position. They both took aim at the approaching jeep as it screamed to a halt twenty feet in front of them, the jeep's headlights shining in their eyes.
'Listen here, you men,' Bolan shouted. 'We're after two terrorists, two live ones. This is for real. One's a woman, the other's a man in a sergeant's uniform.'
'Yes, sir!' one of them shouted back, his hand shielding his eyes from the lights. 'We got the call.'
'Okay, so watch it,' Bolan said.
The two guards lowered their weapons. Bolan's Beretta hissed. He squeezed the trigger four times. Both guards collapsed on the road. Bolan jumped from the jeep and ran into the booth, raised the metal gate, and leaped back into the jeep as it sped by. 'Just keep following this road,' he told Tanya. 'We're about to steal home base.'
6
General Wilson leaned across his desk and spoke into the intercom. 'Buzz me as soon as you get through to that number. Immediately!' He clicked it off without waiting for a reply. He swiveled his massive leather chair around to face the two majors standing next to his desk. 'Is everyone accounted for?'
'Yes, sir,' Major Thompson said.
'Injuries?'
Major Felder cleared his throat as if embarrassed. 'Well, sir, two. Corporal Donner's trick knee went out when he was climbing the crates, and Private Simms skinned his elbow when he fell on the macadam.'
'That's it?'
'Yes, sir.'
General Wilson leaned back in his chair with a sigh. 'Well, that's not too bad then. Not too bad at all.' The telephone buzzed and he snatched up the receiver. 'General Wilson here. I'm calling in reference to Colonel Phoenix. That's quite all right... I understand the need for security. In fact, your Colonel Phoenix has taught me a whole new lesson on that subject... Yes, we followed his plan all the way.... Just a few minor injuries.... No, I used my best marksmen, or markspersons, I guess, since two of them are women. They kicked up some splinters, but never came close enough to harm your man or his pigeon... Oh, he was a perfect gentleman. We're going to have to replace some lighting fixtures and doors, but otherwise he kept the live bullets a comfortable distance away. The woman's gun had the blanks, so he let her do the actual killing.... Personally, I thought my men overacted a bit, but I'm assured they were quite convincing in fact.... Yes, I understand. No problem. Just one other thing I'd like to say.
