Fireburst. Don Pendleton
“General issue level four, or some specifically tailored for female soldiers?”
“General issue.” He gestured at the door. “Okay, you’re right. Lead the way.”
As Montenegro started down the stairs, she asked over a shoulder, “What’s our first move, Matt?”
“I have our ride waiting at the airport,” Bolan said. “From Miami we fly directly to Andrews Air Force Base where we pick up some heavy ordnance and switch to a C-130 Hercules.”
“And then?” Montenegro asked, pushing open the ground-floor door and rushing across the lobby.
Both men said nothing until they were outside and on the street.
“Sri Lanka,” Kirkland replied. “We’re going after the White Tigers.”
She paused. “They’re behind the attack on NASA?”
“Not a chance in hell,” Bolan said honestly.
Furrowing her brow, Montenegro started to ask a question, then comprehension flared.
“You clever bastards,” she said, slowly smiling. “Come on, my Hummer is this way. Let’s go!”
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