Enemy Arsenal. Don Pendleton
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WHOLESALE SLAUGHTER
A massive black-market weapons bazaar, where someone with enough money could outfit a small nation, becomes Stony Man’s highest-priority target. And Mack Bolan is determined to be on this year’s guest list. Setting out undercover into the African desert, he’s about to close in when U.S. aircraft and armored vehicles—operated by men in American uniform—annihilate the crowd.
The truth soon becomes clear. A growing syndicate struck the site in disguise to behead the smaller crime organizations and absorb what was left. While all eyes are on the U.S. to explain what happened, Bolan goes on the hunt for the real power behind the bloodbath. And the trail leads to the South China Sea, where a mysterious billionaire has launched an assault on the world’s major ports. Hijacked cargo ships are heading for international cities. Unless Bolan can stop them...
Bolan tossed the device into the backseat
“Damn, that thing is handy,” James said. “Stony Man ought to license it to the cops to stop speeders.”
“Yeah,” Bolan said, “and it also fried the vatos’ cells so that they can’t call for help. Who knew EMP could be so helpful?”
“Uh, how are we gonna catch all these guys?”
“We’ll have to round them up the old-fashioned way....” Bolan trailed off as he felt a warm circle of metal press into the back of his neck hard, pushing his head forward. He froze.
“All right, putas. Move just an inch and I’ll splatter your brains all over the car.”
Enemy Arsenal
Don Pendleton
Weapons are an important factor in war, but not the decisive one; it is man and not materials that counts.
—Mao Tse-Tung
A weapon is not evil in and of itself—it is merely a tool, one that can be used by evil men against the innocent, or by good men to protect the innocent. When I take up arms against evil, it is with the sole notion to protect the innocent and punish the guilty.
—Mack Bolan
Special thanks and acknowledgment to Travis Morgan for his contribution to this work.
Contents
PROLOGUE
A glass of chilled champagne dangling between his fingers, James Barrett leaned on the luxury yacht’s polished teakwood railing and watched the golden-red sun sink into the deep blue waters of the glass-smooth South China Sea.
Sure is a far cry from Nebraska, he thought. Indeed, he’d never imagined seeing this much water in his life, not counting a family vacation to the Great Lakes when he was ten years old. Barrett glanced back at the receding Philippine Islands, where he’d just spent three intoxicating days. He was living the life he’d