"Дон Пендлтон. California Hit ("Палач" #11) " - читать интересную книгу автора

DeMarco took the cloth belt from his robe and made a fumbling attempt
to apply it as a tourniquet above the mutilated hand.
His eyes had not yet met Bolan's gaze, and he seemed to be avoiding
such a confrontation.
Bolan told the old man, "Save it, DeMarco, he won't be needing that."
Rivoli's lips moved again and he whispered, "No mercy, I said. Shoot to
kill. You hear me? Shoot to kill."
Bolan said, "Okay."
He snuggled the Auto Mag beneath the old man's arm and squeezed off
once. The big piece roared and bucked against the Capo's chest.
DeMarco lurched forward, eyes wide and stricken with a mortal
awareness, and his mouth formed the words, "Missed... you missed."
Bolan told him, "I never miss," and he walked to the window while he
tucked away the Auto Mag and re-fitted the gas-mask to his face.
It was not until then that DeMarco became aware of the mess behind him.
The Tiger of the Hill had lost his face plus a goodly portion of skull to
the rear... and the big mean bastard in the black suit had been right about
the uselessness of that tourniquet.
Ten thousand tourniquets wouldn't put Little Tony back together again.
Pieces of him were splattered all over the bed, even on the walls.
DeMarco yelled, "You bastard you, you bastard! What're you doing this
to me for?"
But the window was up, and the bastard was gone, and actually he'd done
nothing whatever to Don DeMarco. Except shoot up his house, and fill it with
smoke, and splatter Little Tony all over his bedroom, and kill off God only
knew how many of the house boys.
The Don went over to the window and closed it. He got the hell away
from it quick and staggered back to the bed to stare with fascination at
what was left of his old friend Tony's kid... little Tony.
His lip curled, and he said quietly, "Some tiger. The only tiger on
this hill, kid, just climbed out that window."
And then the Capo went to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a drink,
then he sank wearily into a chair and waited for someone to come up and take
care of him.

9
Wang Dang Doo

He was two minutes into the hit and the numbers were rapidly running
away from him when Bolan dropped to the ground beneath DeMarco's bedroom
window.
The smoke at ground level was beginning to dissipate and it was
straggling about the neighborhood in puffy clumps.
People were still running about in confusion at the front of the
property. Bolan could hear men cursing and shouting inside the house.
Someone in there was yelling, "The fans, get the goddam fans going,
blow that shit outta here!"
Another guy leaned out of an upstairs window, coughing and gasping for
breathable air. He saw Bolan and took a shot at him, and Bolan quickly
responded with a quiet phu-uut from the silenced Beretta. The guy gurgled