Shock Force

"The man you're looking for is named Adams."

"Adams,"  Mack Bolan repeated.  It was the third name that Giorgio had given him.  "Here's your money.  I'm leaving now.  I hope none of your boys do anything stupid."

The Executioner had taken less than a dozen steps when a gunner on the catwalk shouted, "I see him,  Boom! Don't worry.  I'll nail the bastard."

His boss's reply not to shoot was smothered by the thunder of high-caliber rifle.  Bolan juked to the right, spotted a lanky figure overhead and drilled the shooter with a burst of 9mm slugs.  It was the signal for guns to open up all over the warehouse.

The warrior took out the light with his next round.  Jumping to his feet in a momentary lull, he bolted for the door, figuring he was in the clear. 

A few yards were all that remained when Bolan glanced into the gloom and spotted a gunner with an Uzi.  The man had the weapon trained on him, had him dead to rights.  Even as the Executioner weaved to make himself harder to hit, the Uzi erupted.

Precision Kill

"Just stay calm," Grendel cautioned.  "We have to keep a real low profile.  Lower than ever, after what Loomis told me this afternoon."

"Is it a secret?"

Grendel hesitated.  "What the hell.  You'd find out in a few days anyway.  The boss has a new job to do, the biggest damn job ever."  He grinned.  "Do you remember the greaser who was hot under the collar about the DEA?"

"Well, he got himself whacked.   His people are furious.  They think the government is to blame.  so they're paying Trask to come up with a foolproof way to hit another target.  You wouldn't guess who it is in a million years."

"The CIA? The FBI?"

"Not quite.  they want to blow away the President."