aware. All gunshot wounds must be reported by physicians in attendance."
"You're in danger here."
She stiffened, putting on a frown. "I don't respond to threats," she said. "I've put your guns away, and you're in no condition to go looking for them at the moment. If you can't behave, I'll have to offer you a sedative."
She was a gutsy lady. She was afraid, he felt it, but she hid her feelings well. And Bolan had no doubts that if it came to that, the sedative would be an "offer" he could not refuse.
"I wasn't threatening," he told her. "The men who shot me won't be satisfied until they're finished with the job. They might have traced me here already."
"All the more reason to call the authorities. They can protect you and sort this thing out."
The prospect of a small-town marshal guarding him against Rivera's army was so ludicrous that Bolan nearly laughed out loud. "The only thing they'll have to sort is bodies, if I'm found in Santa Rosa."
"Aren't we getting just the least bit overwrought?"
He glowered at her.
"We are
trying to prevent a massacre. If you prefer your killings wholesale, go ahead and make that call."
She hesitated, and the frown was deeper now. "Why should I buy all this? I still don't know your name."
He thought about it, finally figured
Hell, why not?
"The name's Mack Bolan. Ring a bell?"
From the expression on the woman's face, he knew that it was setting off a clamor of alarms. She almost took a backward step, but caught herself and stood her ground.
"The man they call the Executioner?"
"Some do."
"Assuming that it's true, what brings you into Santa Rosa?"
"Call it an unscheduled pit stop. If I hadn't stopped a bullet, I'd be somewhere else."
"My luck."
"You've got a chance to change your luck," he said. "That call you plan to make could get a lot of people killed."
"By you?"
The soldier spread his hands. "You've got my guns, remember?"
"Yes, and I intend to keep them safely under lock and key until the constable arrives."
As long as she was talking to him, she would not be on the phone, and Bolan knew he had to stall for time, attempt to win her over, or at least create a reasonable doubt within her analytic mind.
"The constable? What kind of force does he command?"
"You've seen the town," she answered. "It's a one-man show."
"I've got an army on my trail. Unless your constable's a kick-ass kind of guy, it might be better if you kept him in the dark. I wouldn't want to get him killed unnecessarily."
"All killing is unnecessary."
"There, we disagree."
"I've read a number of your clippings, Mr. Bolan. All about your so-called 'holy war.' I don't approve."
His smile was ice. "I haven't asked for your approval, Doctor. At the moment I have two priorities: survival and the prevention of a full-scale massacre in Santa Rosa. I would like to save your life, but if you won't cooperate..."
"My
life? What have I got to do with this?"
"You're here," he told her simply. "We've had a chance to talk. My enemies will have to think I've told you something, and they can't afford to have you spreading it around."
There was a trace of panic in her eyes, immediately covered over.
"But you haven't told me anything. I mean, except your name and..."
"Cheap insurance," Bolan said. "No witnesses. How many people live in town?"
She frowned again, but clearly saw his point. "Around a hundred, if you count the local farmers and their families. Within the city limits, maybe thirty-five."
"I wouldn't want them on my conscience."
She was on the verge of a response but reconsidered, falling silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was cautious, strained.
"I can't believe that these people — whoever they are — would murder everyone in town."
"You may be right. They'd only need to kill the ones who saw them, witnesses, but once they're on a roll..."
"And why should I believe your story?"
Bolan shrugged. "You've read my clippings, Doctor. You're aware of what I do, and who I do it to.
"You're in danger here."
She stiffened, putting on a frown. "I don't respond to threats," she said. "I've put your guns away, and you're in no condition to go looking for them at the moment. If you can't behave, I'll have to offer you a sedative."
She was a gutsy lady. She was afraid, he felt it, but she hid her feelings well. And Bolan had no doubts that if it came to that, the sedative would be an "offer" he could not refuse.
"I wasn't threatening," he told her. "The men who shot me won't be satisfied until they're finished with the job. They might have traced me here already."
"All the more reason to call the authorities. They can protect you and sort this thing out."
The prospect of a small-town marshal guarding him against Rivera's army was so ludicrous that Bolan nearly laughed out loud. "The only thing they'll have to sort is bodies, if I'm found in Santa Rosa."
"Aren't we getting just the least bit overwrought?"
He glowered at her.
"We are
trying to prevent a massacre. If you prefer your killings wholesale, go ahead and make that call."
She hesitated, and the frown was deeper now. "Why should I buy all this? I still don't know your name."
He thought about it, finally figured
Hell, why not?
"The name's Mack Bolan. Ring a bell?"
From the expression on the woman's face, he knew that it was setting off a clamor of alarms. She almost took a backward step, but caught herself and stood her ground.
"The man they call the Executioner?"
"Some do."
"Assuming that it's true, what brings you into Santa Rosa?"
"Call it an unscheduled pit stop. If I hadn't stopped a bullet, I'd be somewhere else."
"My luck."
"You've got a chance to change your luck," he said. "That call you plan to make could get a lot of people killed."
"By you?"
The soldier spread his hands. "You've got my guns, remember?"
"Yes, and I intend to keep them safely under lock and key until the constable arrives."
As long as she was talking to him, she would not be on the phone, and Bolan knew he had to stall for time, attempt to win her over, or at least create a reasonable doubt within her analytic mind.
"The constable? What kind of force does he command?"
"You've seen the town," she answered. "It's a one-man show."
"I've got an army on my trail. Unless your constable's a kick-ass kind of guy, it might be better if you kept him in the dark. I wouldn't want to get him killed unnecessarily."
"All killing is unnecessary."
"There, we disagree."
"I've read a number of your clippings, Mr. Bolan. All about your so-called 'holy war.' I don't approve."
His smile was ice. "I haven't asked for your approval, Doctor. At the moment I have two priorities: survival and the prevention of a full-scale massacre in Santa Rosa. I would like to save your life, but if you won't cooperate..."
"My
life? What have I got to do with this?"
"You're here," he told her simply. "We've had a chance to talk. My enemies will have to think I've told you something, and they can't afford to have you spreading it around."
There was a trace of panic in her eyes, immediately covered over.
"But you haven't told me anything. I mean, except your name and..."
"Cheap insurance," Bolan said. "No witnesses. How many people live in town?"
She frowned again, but clearly saw his point. "Around a hundred, if you count the local farmers and their families. Within the city limits, maybe thirty-five."
"I wouldn't want them on my conscience."
She was on the verge of a response but reconsidered, falling silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was cautious, strained.
"I can't believe that these people — whoever they are — would murder everyone in town."
"You may be right. They'd only need to kill the ones who saw them, witnesses, but once they're on a roll..."
"And why should I believe your story?"
Bolan shrugged. "You've read my clippings, Doctor. You're aware of what I do, and who I do it to.
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