Outback Assault

He pushed Wangara against the base of the wall with one hand, the other pulling the Walther from its shoulder leather in one swift movement. “Stay down!” he shouted.

Bolan rolled to one knee, the 9 mm pistol leading the way. He spotted a handgun-wielding Chinese man gaping at the broken window, wondering at the blur of motion that had snatched his target out of the way. The Executioner milked the trigger twice. Bullets tore into the chest of the gunman, the shooter’s dying reflex jerking him back toward the panel van, forcing his allies to stumble as they tried to get out of the vehicle.

Bolan swept his Walther to a second gunman and punched a single 9 mm pill through his ear. The Asian marauder tumbled face-first to the concrete, eliciting a cry of dismay from the van’s driver. A third and a fourth gunman exploded through the open side panel, spreading out in response to Bolan’s marksmanship. The Executioner dropped and rolled on his shoulders as a shotgun belched violently. A clothing rack above him jerked and billowed under the 12-gauge assault, pellets shredding fabric, hangers clanking on metal tubing. People in the store screamed in fear, but Bolan’s explosive entry had driven them to cover. No one had been struck by gunfire yet, except the attackers.

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