Executioner - Tiger Stalk Part 18

Suddenly Thamby turned and snapped off a pair of rounds from the pistol he gripped in his right hand.

One of the slugs whispered across the soldier's left cheekbone, startling him for a moment.

The Executioner regained his balance and spewed a wave of bullets at where the Tamil had been sitting.

Thamby had thrown himself to one side, and the slugs tore into the far wall behind the dining table.

Bolan charged at the terrorist, spraying the area in front of him with a sustained burst of death.

Two slugs chewed into Thamby's shoulder and knocked the autoloader from his grasp. The Tamil grabbed a long knife from the dining table and threw himself at his enemy. Arms locked in midair, the two men struggled for the upper hand.

The Executioner tried to raise the Uzi, but Thamby's powerful grip forced the weapon down to Bolan's side.

The Tamil lifted the knife high in the air as if he were offering some h.e.l.lish demon of his own devising a human sacrifice.

Forcing up the Uzi inch by inch, the Executioner felt its muzzle snag on the belt around Thamby's pants, the ensuing loud explosion temporarily deafening him. He felt himself being shoved backward by the recoil of the gun.

For a moment Bolan thought that somehow he had missed him. Then he saw the cavity in the Tamil's midsection. Blood and bits of tissue began to ooze from the giant wound.

Thamby's hand was still curled around the long knife, and, despite the agony reflected in his expression, the Tiger terrorist raised the blade.

Bolan did the only thing he could. He fired at pointblank range, nearly cutting his enemy in two. Thamby fell to the wooden floor, his lifeblood staining the planks dark red.

Outside, the rains had finally come, a gentle stream of water was.h.i.+ng the streets of Jaffna.

Soon, Bolan knew, the stream would turn to a torrent.

Opening the door, the Executioner left the small house and walked into fresh air and life.

EPILOGUE Mack Bolan sat in the metal chair next to the hospital bed and looked at the young woman who huddled under the covers. The doctors had removed the life-support equipment and replaced it with an IV antibiotic drip. He waited until she opened her eyes.

When she did, she smiled. "I don't like this part of the job, either," she said in a whisper.

"You could go back to being a communications clerk," he suggested.

She opened her eyes wide and in a mock tone of horror, replied, "And miss all the fun?

Never." Outside, the monsoon season had finally arrived. Sheets of rain tumbled from the dark, cloudy sky.

Sirindikha listened to the storm for a moment, then turned and looked at Bolan. "Where do you go now?" "Home with John Vu," he replied.

The soft but determined voice behind them added his own comment.

"John Vu isn't going home. Not yet." The soldier turned and glanced at the diplomat, who had quietly entered the hospital room.

"Any reason?" "That Konamalai chap. According to the doctor who checked him out, he's got some holes in him, but nothing that won't heal. I've been talking to him." He shook his head. "He isn't a bad fellow to do business with. My guess is that he'd like to find an answer that would stop the killings and give the Tamils a place of their own. Now that he's kind of in charge of these Tigers, we agreed that when he's up and around, we'd get together and do some more talking." Bolan felt it necessary to remind Vu that the Tigers weren't the only ones in the war. "Will the Sri Lankan government accept a settlement?" "Nice thing about us is that we take care of our friends. I think the government will get the message." "Then what?" "Then I go home and start to enjoy my retirement." Bolan nodded as a hint of a smile played on his lips. Vu looked at the Executioner. "What about you?" "My mission is accomplished." "Will I ever see you again?" "You never know," he replied.

The End <(bm)>