Sold For Slaughter (The Executioner, No. 60)
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A federal government agent was missing, a very special agent. Mack Bolan found her in a chicken coop in Kansas. At first the sultry beauty did not recognize Mack. At first she could only moan.Her name was Smiley Dublin, a Ranger girl from Bolans war against the Mafia. She had fallen prey to pitiless slavers who treated humans like cattle-abducting, drugging, beating, selling them. Bolan's gut burned. In a Jersey warehouse, he squeezed Tommy the Weasel til he squealed, then followed a trail of horror all the way to Algiers. He would make the flesh peddlers pay with their blood.
?You do? Perhaps you could explain it to the rest of us.? The Arab stiffened, recognizing the trap too late. ?As I told you, this LaMancha spoke of trouble in America. A war?? ?Of course,? Armand replied. ?And who are the combatants, Rani? The Mafia, perhaps? DeLuccia and Battaglia were the Mafia.? ?The families fight among themselves, Armand.? ?Naturally,? Armand said with a mocking smile. ?But I have spoken with a member of the ruling council, La Commissióne, and he assures me that our late
feet away when he appeared to stumble, losing his balance. Simultaneously, the gunner's skull exploded like a melon with a firecracker inside, flesh and bone and brains erupting in a liquid halo. The headless body seem to float with arms outstretched, a ghastly human butterfly, impacting in the center of Armand's veranda table. Glasses toppled, smashing on the flagstones, liquor mingling with the oily slick of blood. A spray of blood caught the countess, dark droplets soaking through her silken
might have missed his shot at a conclusive sweep of the Algerian operation. But it was the latest captive who disturbed him most of all. His gut told him it must be Smiley Dublin. He would have to check it out before proceeding any further. He was returning to the safehouse, racing against the clock. Bolan prayed that Smiley would be there to greet him — but he knew with chilling certainty that she would not be. 13 When he reached the safehouse, Bolan made a cautious drive-by, circling the
his local regulars. Beyond the glass, the captain spent himself at last, displaying a final grimace for the hidden camera before collapsing into satin sheets. The Arab checked his watch and saw that it was time to make his evening rounds. He was not expecting trouble, but he liked to make a nightly appearance. It cemented Ali's friendship with his regulars and kept them coming back. He left the camera running, just in case the captain found his second wind and made the tape into a double
well to come so far,? she said, her tone taking on a mocking quality. ?I felt your strength myself.? Smiley felt her stomach turning over, and she swallowed hard to keep the contents down. ?It's over,? she informed the countess. Apprehension was quickly lost within the calculating gaze. ?Not yet, liebchen,? she retorted. ?Not just yet.? The movement, though anticipated, was so swift and fluid it almost took Smiley by surprise. She saw the German's right hand dipping down and out of sight,