Judgment Day -03 Read Online Free PDF

snaked around cars, pausing any time he made a noise. After nearly five full minutes, he arrived at the grassy embankment on the far side of the road. The smell of cigarette smoke was stronger now.
    Believing that he was out of their direct sight, he rolled slowly down the embankment to the bottom of the small gulley and into a puddle of cool, muddy water. The first pipe straddled the ditch, with the end lying almost directly above him. He lay there for nearly a minute, listening. The only sound was that of boots scrubbing across concrete. He waited a little longer and was rewarded for his patience with the sound of voices.
    “You see anything?” a man asked.
    There was no answer.
    “Hey, jackass, I asked you a question.”
    “If I saw something, don’t you think I’d tell you?” a second man said with a strong New England accent. “Finish your damn cigarette, and look for yourself.”
    “Yeah, yeah, a couple more drags.”
    Two voices meant at least two men. There could easily be more, however.
    Mason quietly slid his Supergrade from its holster. It wasn’t the right weapon for the task, but it was what he had. The full length of the pipes was probably only about fifty feet, well within his range, but if anyone made it out of the end pipe, Mason would be at a serious disadvantage against their long guns.
    He glanced over and saw Bowie peeking at him from around the Lexus. The dog would help whether he wanted him to or not. If someone made a run for it, Bowie would give chase. It was in his nature to do so, and nothing Mason said or did was going to stop that.
    Mason had no way of knowing whether anyone was looking down at his end of the pipe, and he couldn’t chance raising his head up to get a better look. He would hold the advantage of surprise, and that would have to be enough. Worrying that Bowie might decide to come check things out for himself, Mason decided to move sooner, rather than later. He pushed up and rolled to a kneeling position, swinging the Supergrade into position.
    Two men, dressed in black fatigues, stood in the chain of pipes. One man was very close, perhaps eight feet away, holding a cigarette up to this mouth with one hand, and resting the other on an AK-47. His left ear was completely missing, sliced off as cleanly as Van Gogh’s. The second man was all the way at the far end of the pipes. He had an M4 rifle up and ready as he peered out to watch the road.
    Mason immediately sighted in on the far man and fired two shots in rapid succession. The first bullet caught him under the ribcage, and the second in the neck as he tumbled backward. At the sound of the gunshots, Bowie bolted from behind the car, barking as he raced toward Mason. Van Gogh spun around, shock and confusion on his face.
    “Drop it!” Mason commanded, quickly adjusting his point of aim. At eight feet, he could empty the magazine into the one-eared man before he could get his rifle in hand.
    Van Gogh glanced at his partner and then back at Mason. After only a short deliberation, he released his rifle, letting it clatter against the concrete pipe. At that same instant, Bowie raced around Mason and scrambled up into the pipe.
    Mason shouted for him to stop, but Bowie tore ahead. At the sight of the snarling dog, Van Gogh turned and ran. Mason jumped to his feet and raced around the outside of the pipes, hoping to cut him off. The soldier was remarkably agile, making it out the far end of the pipe, with Bowie hot on his heels.
    They raced out onto the freeway, the man finally turning and screaming while holding his open hands out toward the dog. Bowie hunched his back and began to slowly advance, snarling, without a hint of mercy.
    “Bowie!” shouted Mason.
    Bowie tipped his head to the side to acknowledge his master’s call, but refused to take his eyes off the soldier.
    Mason approached and placed one hand on the dog, trying to calm him.
    “Easy, boy,” he said, careful to keep the Supergrade pointed at Van