Serpent's Lair

Sticking around to take out the three fully armed mercenaries would swallow too much time, allowing Hogan and the Yakuza to meet unmolested.

He couldn’t let the girl exchange hands.

Bolan didn’t know what would happen next, but he intended to get there before anything happened to the innocent life he was suddenly responsible for protecting.

There were no acceptable losses to the Executioner. He had only a few minutes to reach Rebecca Anthony and secure her freedom.

Bounding through the trees, the Executioner raced as fast as he could. He slowed enough to glance down at the gun he had in the holster.

He was carrying an old Walther P-38 K in his holster. With the five-inch barrel trimmed to three inches, yet still holding nine shots ready to fire with a pull of the trigger, it was an attractive weapon. Not as attractive as having fourteen rounds of bigger, fatter .40-caliber slugs, Bolan thought, but it wasn’t massive missiles and having dozens of rounds of firepower that made a gun worthwhile.

It was the ability of the gunmen to hit a target.

The Executioner had that ability. And with a couple spare magazines, he figured he might actually stand a chance. It was a small chance, made even smaller as gunfire chased him through the foliage as he crossed the hillside road, but Bolan wasn’t dead yet.

The Executioner charged on.

HOGAN HEARD THE CLICK of the radio and tilted it toward his mouth, his earpiece feeding him the frantic words.

“The target is climbing the hill as we speak. He’s cutting across country,” Frye stated on the other end.

“Damn,” Hogan murmured. “He’s got a useless Glock—”

“No. He got Tom.”

“Christ, he’s got an HK?” Hogan asked.

“No. We drove him off with automatic weapons fire, but he did manage to cut off Tom’s web belt. He got that creaky old little Walther Tom loved so much,” Frye explained.

Hogan took a deep breath, rolled his eyes and spoke into the radio. “Continue after Cooper. Don’t let him get away. I don’t need him popping up on my six when we burn the Yakuza and get the girl.”

“We’re in hot pursuit, sir. Unless this guy is Tarzan, there’s no way he can outrace us,” Frye replied.

“So why is he still alive and heading back this way when you were between him and the road?”

There was silence on the other end.

“Just as I thought,” Hogan said. “I’ll make sure our people are ready for him to come over the mountaintop. If you do catch him, consider your cut raised.”

“Thank you, sir,” Frye said.

Hogan let the radio mouthpiece rest back on his shoulder. He knew that there were more advanced designs, but the old radio was a thing of comfort, firm, solid and dependable. Just like the HK MP-5 and the Colt he had with him. Strong steel gave him a good feeling.

“Anything on their radio chatter?” Hogan asked his com man, Nickles.

“I’ve got nothing. There was a brief cell-phone call, but they cut it off. They’re tight on their discipline,” Nickles answered.

“Unless they don’t have anyone to call as backup,” Hogan said.

Nickles smirked. “That’s thinking too positively.”

“But it is an option,” Hogan said. “Either way, keep watching. If they’re not making calls out, then they probably have something arranged as backup.”

“I’m worried about this Cooper guy,” Nickles stated. “I was trying to keep track of his calls, but they were too encrypted. I couldn’t get a handle on who or where he was calling.”

“He’s not going to be a factor. Nobody has been following us,” Hogan explained. “Just keep your ears open for the Yakuza radio traffic.”

“You don’t think it’s going to be that much of a cakewalk, do you?” Nickles asked.

“I’m carrying a shitload of firepower. Everyone on this team is. The Yakuza do not fuck around when it comes to business, and the men we’re going against, they might not be military, but they are smart, tough and capable,” Hogan replied. “When we make our move to get the girl, it has to be hard and it has to be fast.”

Nickles smirked. “It’s never soft and easy.”

Hogan slapped the fore stock of his MP-5 into his meaty palm. “No, it never is.”

HONEY LOOKED AT THE tree line surrounding the clearing. Only an old, overgrown path showed any alternate way off the cliff-top clearing where the Yakuza vehicles were lined up. Men spread apart, ducking into clearings and ditches, carrying high-powered rifles and handguns with them.

It was an ambush, she thought, but then she realized that would be a stupid idea. The Yakuza wanted payment for her. If they opened fire on whatever negotiators her father sent, then there was a chance that they’d damage the money or the plans. She squirmed in her seat, keeping her eyes on the path that cut up the side of the mountain.

There was a chance, she thought. She wouldn’t have to go back to her father, and she could get away from these Yakuza thugs, if only she could create some kind of distraction. Her heart hammered under her breastbone, the uneasy tingle of nausea and anticipation filling her mouth with a coppery taste. She could run—

And what? Have not one but two small armies hunting her through the woods?

Anything was better than being Daddy’s little hostage, she thought.

If it came to a choice between living with a murderer or dying with a bullet in her back, she’d take her chances with the slug through her spine.

Her hand touched the door release for a moment, then she looked at Machida.

“They’re coming to take you home,” Machida told her. “If you try to run, people will get hurt. You’ll be one of them.”

“Mercenaries and criminals. What’s my father paying to have me freed?”

Machida shook his head. “That is not my place to say.”

“I can’t live with that. Because of me, some psychopath is going to get his hands on the equipment necessary to exterminate a few hundred people with the push of a button.”

“We do what we have to do,” Machida said. “I am bound by duty to my family to hand you over to your father’s negotiators.”

“No matter who suffers?” Honey asked.

Machida didn’t answer, his face becoming a hard mask. She knew she’d pissed him off, and regretted it. Somewhere, deep inside, she could sense there was something different about him.

“Then, child, if you truly believe in doing your duty, I shall honor you. I will do what I have to do, and I will try to stop you, but I do not blame you for doing what you feel is the honorable thing.”

“Thanks for nothing,” Honey said.

The cell phone in Machida’s hand rang once. He checked the readout on the caller identification. He managed a smile. “I shall be outside of the vehicle. Your father’s men have just passed one of the checkpoints we’ve set up.”