Resurgence

Resurgence
Don Pendleton

A raid on a sex slave depot on the U.S. eastern seaboard is the launching pad of an international firestorm for Mack Bolan.His target–the Albanian mafia–is rapidly expanding its American network with help from the resurrected Kosovar terrorist group, the KLA. After mopping up the mob's stateside end of the pipeline, Bolan and a beautiful Russian agent track the long reach of drugs, human trafficking and black-market arms sales across the Atlantic to the port city of Marseille, France. Bolan blazes a trail of incendiary retribution through corrupt officials, Corsican drug lords and terrorist infrastructure. At the top of his death game, he plays to his enemy's weaknesses, inciting betrayal and panic. But the main event lies across the Adriatic, where the godfather of the Albanian mob is about to get a visit from the Executioner–and a one-way ticket to his own personal hell.

Human trafficking was a profitable business

Bolan watched as the slides showed girls and women being led from seedy rooms by uniformed police. Stretchers were used to carry out the ones who couldn’t walk, either because they had been drugged or their abused bodies had rebelled.

“Kurti answers to this man, back home,” Brognola said as the next slide revealed an older man.

“Rahim Berisha,” the big Fed said. “Think of him as Albania’s Teflon Don. He’s got the best friends money can buy on both sides of the law. He’s been indicted seven times, but something always goes off track at the Ministry of Justice—paperwork misfiled, warrants thrown out on technicalities, witnesses disappear. You get the picture.”

Bolan wished he could study that face through a sniper scope. “So the job would be…”

“Shut them down,” Brognola stated grimly. “Wipe them off the face of the earth.”

Mack Bolan

Resurgence

Don Pendleton’s

www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)

There is no such thing in man’s nature as a settled and full resolve, either for good or evil, except in the moment of execution.

—Nathaniel Hawthorne 1804–1864

I guess that all depends on who you execute, and why.

—Mack Bolan

For Master-At-Arms Second Class Michael A. Monsoor

September 29, 2006 God keep

Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

Off Cape May Point, New Jersey

“Could be a fishing trawler, sir,” Ensign Jared Decker said.

“Could be trouble,” Lieutenant Commander Julio Martinez replied as he tracked the target with his AN/PVS-14 monocular night-vision goggle.

Martinez and Decker occupied the bridge of the U.S. Coast Guard cutter Thresher, one of the eighty-seven-foot Marine Protector class vessels that were always named for aquatic predators.

The Thresher and its ten-member crew were on routine patrol from the Coast Guard’s Cape May Training Center, merging education with some practical experience. Their main targets were drug smugglers, but in the new world forged by 9/11’s flames they also had to watch for terrorists seeking a beachhead on American soil.

Three hours out from home, this might-be fishing trawler was their first suspicious contact.