MacK Bolan: Bloodsport by Don Pendleton Page A

attackers inside, but it was obvious she would not be able to walk.
    The two men exchanged looks, then glanced back at her. She was apparently pleading for them to take her with them, but the two men had already made up their minds. They could not make it with her dragging them down, nor could they risk leaving her behind to scream a warning.
    But nor did they want to alert the troops inside where they were, so they could not shoot. So while the girl continued her whispered pleading, the taller man assured her that they would help. As his comrade soothed her, the second man drove the butt of his gun into the side of her head, crushing her skull.
    It was not a blow meant to stun or knock out. It was meant to kill, and from the way she toppled backward like a bludgeoned steer, Bolan knew it had done its job. The men started to run.
    "Hold it," Bolan said softly. The menace in his voice found their ears despite the loud carnage inside the house.
    The two hardguys brought their Uzis up as they pivoted in a low crouch, but Bolan was already firing, stitching a row of wet red buttons across their chests.
    He zigzagged another row from head to crotch for each, spinning them around before they collapsed.
    Inside, it was a bloody mess, with weapons and shredded flesh splattered across the walls. Bolan was careful where he walked because the thick pools of blood made the floor slippery.
    "This one's still alive," Thomas Morganslicht said, pointing at one sprawled man, his eyes half-open, blood foaming at his mouth. Rudi stepped carelessly over a few bodies and stood next to the man Thomas had pointed out. Then with a mighty cry he lifted his right leg knee high into the air and stomped down on the man's throat with his heavy boot. The body jerked a few times then remained still. Rudi looked over at Bolan and smiled.
    "The rest are dead," Tanya proclaimed as she finished her tour. "That takes care of witnesses. Now let's load the weapons."
    Bolan counted eight remaining of the Zwilling Horde, including himself. There were at least twenty-five dead among the Black Sunday group, so it had been a successful raid in terms of objectives. However, they had lost eight of their troops. There were more back at the camp, of course... enough for the big operation to come? Bolan would find that one out soon enough.

16
    "Let's kill him now," Thomas Morganslicht said, collapsing onto his cot with a deep sigh.
    "In time," Tanya answered. She walked over to the stove and poured herself a cup of thick German coffee.
    "We don't need him anymore. We have the weapons we need for the day after tomorrow."
    "No," she said, shaking her head and blowing steam from the coffee. "We go tomorrow."
    "Tomorrow? That's too soon. Everything has been planned for the next day."
    "No it hasn't. It never was. I told everyone the wrong day for security reasons."
    Thomas jumped up from the cot and wagged his finger angrily at his sister. "But you should have told me! I'm in command here."
    "Co-command, was she said icily.
    He shrugged. "Well, you know what I mean."
    "Yes, dear brother, I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes before you even mean it."
    Thomas began pacing beside the cot. His voice was petulant but accepting, the way it always was when his sister outmaneuvered him. "Still, I should have been told."
    She took a sip of coffee and smiled soothingly. "...Look, Thomas, when we decided to form this little group, we agreed that I would be in charge of security. Okay, I could have told you the truth, but then you'd have had to pretend to everyone else that we were going a day later. And we both know how hard it is for you to pretend. You were never good at it when we were children, nor are you any better at it now."
    "Well, I..." he protested.
    "There's no need to deny it. I'm glad you're that way. Your honesty and candor is what make our troops follow you so readily into battle. They trust you. That's why you're in charge of training them."
    "Yes, yes, that's