STONY MAN
They’re the world’s best military warriors and cyber specialists, and they belong to a top secret black ops group that answers to the President of the United States. The Stony Man team is dedicated to striking down terrorism wherever it may be, even if it means paying the ultimate price.
DEATH MARKET
Terrorists from around the world have gathered in Hawaii to bid on stolen missiles. Whoever wins will have a weapon powerful enough to destroy an aircraft carrier with a single shot. With the clock ticking, Able Team goes undercover to stop the auction and take down the arms dealer who set up the buy. Meanwhile, Phoenix Force is on the hunt to retrieve the missiles and do whatever is necessary to eliminate the shadowy group behind the theft.
LYONS PUMPED A SINGLE ROUND INTO THE FALLEN ATTACKER’S SKULL
The man at the end of the hallway paused and turned at the sound of the finishing shot. He had one more round in his big revolver, and he raised it toward Lyons. The Ironman wasn’t risking the spread of buckshot reaching him. He pumped three rounds into the outlaw biker, catching him in the upper chest.
The gunman’s revolver blasted a storm of lead into the ceiling above him as he crashed backward, ribs broken, lungs torn apart by the fat 230-grain mushrooms of lead and copper.
Lyons swept closer, his Colt leveled at the man’s head.
In an instant, guards were running everywhere. Lyons lowered the pistol, muzzle aimed at the carpet. The uniformed men regarded him cautiously, then looked at the body on the ground.
“Try not to get any more blood on the walls,” one guard grumbled. “We’ll send up someone from maintenance to fix whatever they shot up.”
Lyons took a deep breath, then nodded.
Their first morning at the weapons auction, and someone had already tried to kill him.
Death Dealers
Don Pendleton
Contents
Blackness engulfed Dr. Robert Baxter’s vision as what felt like the weight of a mountain range lay upon his back. He tried to shift himself, squirming his way through the cracks that surrounded him. It was midnight-black in there, and as he tried to take a breath, he could feel the pressure of the rubble around him. Fear gripped him, but he flexed his fingers, dug his toes in and inched along.
He could feel the scrape of pebbles and dust against his bare chest. Somewhere in the explosions that had rocked him and the rest of the Naval Weapons Testing Ground, he’d lost his shirt and laboratory coat. His glasses were gone, so even if there were light, he couldn’t have seen much farther than the crook of his elbow.
He was forced to stop when he encountered a hunk of reinforced concrete that was far too big to move. Baxter wished that he had the strength to shove such things aside or to flatten himself like putty and slip between the gaps. Hell, at this point, he would have been happy just to be able to see anything
Come on, Baxter, you’re a rocket scientist. Use your goddamn brain.
The
