"Дон Пендлтон. Blood Sport ("Палач" #46) " - читать интересную книгу автора

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."