Free Death Run by Don Pendleton Page B

sound-supressed Beretta 93-R and in his right he held his Fairbairn-Sykes Fighting Knife. He had to go in quietly, and even the coughing of the Beretta might be too loud.
    Bolan crept along the building across the tracks from the warehouse, a Quonset hut made of deeply corrugated metal. The building was constructed of approximately a hundred half-circle steel rings bolted together. The rings were trough-shaped, with outer edges that rose up from a flat center section. When bolted together, the raised sections formed ribs that circled the width of the building. These ribs were spaced roughly sixteen inches apart, and the space between them was about eight inches deep. Bolan put his foot on the brace that held the header for the sliding garage door on the front of the building and kicked himself up onto the roof high enough so that he was able to climb to the top of the building in the trough between the steel ribs.
    When he crested the curved steel arch, he scoped out the area. He could see two men behind the building and two in front of it. All of them seemed to be wearing body armor, so Bolan would have to make certain to take head shots. Loud hip-hop music blared from inside the warehouse.
    A lone man walked the length of the warehouse. The man turned toward the steel building where the Executioner lay and started to walk directly towards him. Bolan dismissed thoughts of having been discovered when the man below him turned around, unzipped his zipper and began urinating in the dark shadow cast by the Quonset. When Bolan could hear the urine stream dissipating, he slid feet first down the channel between the ribs and landed on the man's shoulders. Wrapping his legs around the man's neck, Bolan grabbed his head and gave it a sharp twist. The man's neck broke with an audible
pop,
and he fell to the ground with Bolan still on top of him.
    The Executioner leaped from the man's body and dashed toward the warehouse. He crept toward the rear of the building, sticking close to the edge to remain out of the light cast by the spotlights mounted on top of the warehouse. The music blasting from inside allowed him the freedom to use his suppressed Beretta, so he drew the weapon and set the selector on tri-burst mode.
    Bolan peered around the corner. He could smell the marijuana burning in the cigarette that the two men guarding the rear of the building shared. He lined up his sights on the man who had just passed the burning joint to his partner and with a double tap on the trigger he blew off half of the man's head. The partner had closed his eyes while he inhaled the smoke from the joint, and when he opened them, he saw a gaping hole where his buddy's face had been. His eyes got so wide it looked like the skin on his face was going to split, but before he could remove the joint from his lips and shout for help, the Executioner silenced him with another double tap from his Beretta. The man died with the marijuana cigarette still burning between his lifeless lips.
    Bolan went to the other side of the building and stuck his head just far enough around the edge to get a glimpse of what was on that side of the building and encountered another man walking straight for him. The man saw the soldier and stopped, sensing something was wrong. Before he had time to process the situation and draw a gun, Bolan lined him up in his sights and pumped two rounds directly into the man's forehead.
    The soldier went back behind the warehouse and checked the rear walk-in door. It was unlocked, which made sense, since the two corpses with the smoldering joint were supposed to be guarding it. Bolan cracked the door open and peered inside. A large forklift was backing away from an oversized delivery van and two men were pulling down the overhead rear door of the van's cargo box. At least six other men watched the process, each of them armed with an SAR-21. There were likely more men in the building, but Bolan couldn't see them.
    Bolan grabbed one of the