Deadly Contact. Don Pendleton

deeper into Kimble’s flesh, turning it enough to break the skin. Kimble felt the warm trickle of blood from the tear.

      “Where do they have the woman?”

      “No deal, huh? Look, what if I send you to a certain address and she isn’t there?” Kimble asked.

      “Then I’ll come back and we’ll start over. You aren’t going anywhere, Kimble. So make certain I hit the correct location,” the Executioner warned.

      “If my people find out I sent you, I’m dead anyway. They’ll come after me.”

      “No, they won’t. I can promise you that.”

      The tone was neutral but the implication was clear. Kimble knew if this man went after the woman, it wouldn’t matter who stood in his way.

      Bolan stepped away from Kimble and stood facing him, the Beretta still trained on the man.

      “Your choice, Kimble. Give me what I want, and I’ll cut you a break. Screw me, and you’ll wish I’d killed you right here and now.”

      Kimble stared into the cold blue eyes and he saw his own fate mirrored there.

      “You genuine on that? Leaving me alive I mean?”

      “I never lie, Kimble.”

      There was something in the guy’s voice that made Kimble believe him.

      “Then we have a deal.”

      Bolan gestured with the pistol and walked Kimble across the room. He made him sit on the floor next to the heavy radiator piped into the wall, then picked up the plastic ties Kimble had let drop to the floor. He handed one to Kimble.

      “Around your ankles. Make sure it’s tight.”

      “Jesus, my finger’s broke. How can I—”

      “Your choice, Kimble. I still have bullets in this gun.”

      Bolan waited until Kimble did as he was instructed, then fashioned a loop with a second plastic strip. He bound Kimble’s wrists together, then took more strips and secured the bound man to the thick steel pipe running from the radiator to the solid floor.

      “Now tell me where she is and how many are with her.”

      When Bolan had the information locked down he rose to his feet, holstering the Beretta, then turned to leave.

      “Hey,” Kimble called, “how do I get out of this?”

      “If the information is genuine, I won’t be back. I’ll leave a message with my people to come and get you.”

      Kimble’s anger burst like an unchecked flood.

      “You fuckin’ told me you don’t lie. I give you what you want, and you toss me to the cops? What kind of a deal is that?”

      “It’s what we agreed, Kimble. You give me the right words, I don’t kill you. That stands. I didn’t say anything about letting you walk away from this.” Bolan paused to stare the man down. “You want to renegotiate the terms? You still have nine fingers left.”

      Kimble fell silent, figuring he’d worked the best deal he was likely to get. He watched the tall man leave, and reasoned he was better off where he was. He didn’t envy the snatch crew. He tried not to imagine what was going to happen when the unexpected visitor showed up at the abandoned farmhouse.