Ninja Assault. Don Pendleton

      

       LETHAL BARGAIN

      A ninja attack in a Vegas casino leaves two billionaires dead, and all signs point to the Yakuza, a Japanese crime syndicate bent on infiltrating America’s legalized gambling industry. To cut the problem out at the root, Mack Bolan targets the gang’s Stateside web of legitimate businesses and vicious warriors, closing in fast on the Yakuza’s most ruthless clan.

      But when the battle takes Bolan to Japan and he faces a quartet of elite killers, he realizes Vegas was just the tip of the iceberg. A cult-enthralled clan member has partnered with a corrupt Chinese general to bring about massive spiritual “cleansing”—in the form of a deadly toxic weapon. With millions of lives on the line, the Executioner isn’t playing the odds. He’s betting everything on his special brand of hellfire.

       Bolan sprinted across the roof, heading for the fire escape.

       A pistol cracked, and he heard the whisper of a bullet as it streaked past his cheek. One shooter was behind him when he turned, and Bolan saw another peeking from the rooftop access doorway. He sent the shooter spinning away with a 3-round burst, his white shirt spouting scarlet, then sent three more rounds to make the doorway peeper duck back out of sight.

       With ammunition running low, he glanced over the parapet, saw no shooters prepared to pick him off as he descended and swung out onto the fire escape. Gripping the side rails with his hands and bracing the insteps of his shoes against them, Bolan slid down until he landed in a crouch fifty feet below.

       Gunshots echoed above him, a reminder that he had no time to waste. Raising the MP5K’s muzzle, Bolan fired a burst and saw a face fly back.

       His rented wheels waited for him half a block away.

       Bolan ran.

       Ninja Assault

      Don Pendleton

      Only the dead have seen the end of war.

      —Plato

      Human predators will never be eradicated. A new crop pops up when the old one is cut down. There is no cure for the plague of evil and avarice, but I can fight the symptoms when they surface, wherever they surface.

      —Mack Bolan

      For Captain William D. Swenson,

      1st Battalion, 32nd Infantry Regiment

       CONTENTS

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       Introduction

       Title Page

       Quotes

       Dedication

       PROLOGUE

       CHAPTER ONE

       CHAPTER TWO

       CHAPTER THREE

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

       CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

       CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

       CHAPTER NINETEEN

       CHAPTER TWENTY

       CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

       CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

       EPILOGUE

       Copyright

       PROLOGUE

       Atlantic City, New Jersey

      Tommy Wolff leaned closer to the window, peering at his face and raising one manicured hand to prod the pouches underneath his ice-blue eyes. He’d chosen Kisdon lighting for the penthouse bathroom, fixtures planned with flattery in mind, but lights could only do so much.

      Time for a touch-up there, he thought, and made a mental note to fit it in.

      Not that the ladies waiting for him in the bedroom would object to pouchy eyes. They’d been well paid to service him, with cash and with cocaine. They’d do whatever Wolff required, as he required it, and they’d damn well like it.

      Hell, why not? They hadn’t seen his schmeckel yet, and they were bound to be impressed.

      The ladies always were. No work required in that department.