Hellfire Crusade Read Online Free PDF Page B

body with his foot. The corpse tumbled loosely down under the bushes. He moved quickly to the left to check the other goon. The hapless gunman was twisted uncomfortably to the side, propped on one elbow, shuddering with each shallow, rasping breath. His weapon, a Walther PPK, was lying where he'd dropped it; Bolan tossed it into the bay.
    He glanced over at the other man, who was sprawled facedown with his shattered head nestled in the crook of his arm. There was no need to see if he still had a pulse. The guy at his feet was not going to live too much longer, either; the soft-nosed slug had mangled his intestines. The guy uttered a soft curse in Arabic, then he said, "Not good."
    "Nope," agreed Bolan. "So why the hell did you do it?"
    "Hanzal gave the orders." He jerked his head in the direction of the bushes where the first man lay. The gesture cost him an agonizing stab through the gut. His elbow gave way and he sagged back on the sand. "Hanzal said you were not an official... he was sure of it. Thought you were a private investigator."
    "Something like that," Bolan said. "And you thought you would scare me off?"
    "Yes. And now..." He winced as he caught his breath. "I'm going to die."
    "Yes," Bolan told him. It was not a time for lies. It was not a time for useless hatred, either. Bolan bunched up his topcoat and tucked it behind his adversary's head.
    The pale wash of a passing car's headlights swept over them. The man's forehead was beaded in sweat. Bolan recognized his face. The police composite was not exact, but close enough.
    "You were the driver, weren't you?"
    "I drive for Hanzal. He demanded we catch you..."
    "Where did you lake the boy? Who do you work for?"
    "My home is far away. A small country — you will not have heard of it."
    "Try me."
    "But this will change. Khurabi will be the center of the Crescent Revolution. Hassan Zayoud — may Allah watch over him — will give new meaning to militant Islam."
    "Where have you taken Kevin?"
    "He is beyond your reach."
    Bolan bent lower. Looming over him in the darkness, it must have seemed that the big American was about to make a final threat to wring out the truth.
    "Just as I am beyond your reach. You can't kill us all." He gasped one feeble cough and died, staring sightlessly up at the ghostly palm fronds.

4
    "You were right," Bolan told the Bear. He was calling from the airport. "Call it a hunch or whatever."
    "Let's settle for a well-informed guess," said Kurtzman. "The input I was getting made me suspect a connection. So the boy is in Khurabi?"
    Bolan quickly debriefed. "I figured the Mob would simply pay off somebody on the inside; they wouldn't have to stand watch. These guys were running a big risk to stay on top of things for their boss. He's playing a dangerous game."
    "Yeah, but surely your action tonight is going to warn Hassan Zayoud."
    "It'll put him on notice, sure, but Zayoud won't know who is on his case." It was a plain statement of fact but it carried an undertone of menace. "There's something else I want you to check out: can you trace anything on the Crescent Revolution movement?"
    "Right." The Bear made a note. "Sounds like another self-appointed savior is in the wings — just what the world needs! Did you find out what Harrison is doing in Khurabi?"
    "Jeff Clayton told me he was recruited by Dan Ruark. My guess is that they're training Zayoud's men for a palace coup. Ruark has some experience at stabbing people in the back," replied Bolan. "Have you found me an expert on Khurabi?"
    "There aren't too many. Bill Patterson spent quite a while out there, running a survey for Allied Oil. Trouble is, he's been promoted to senior VP and is now enjoying his yacht somewhere off Nassau."
    "Who else did you come up with?"
    "Professor Brunton at Westfield University. He conducted a couple of extended digs there quite recently. I called him at the university but he was just leaving for a conference in Heidelberg and he wasn't in any mood for small talk