Deadly Force Read Online Free

back outside and hid.
    Mojombo and three of his men rushed into the central radio room and found two men on duty with earphones on. He guessed they were listening to music. Both died of multiple gunshot wounds before they knew anyone was there. Mojombo and his men searched the area until they found what they wanted: a box with six handheld radios in it, fresh from the factory. They had batteries with them and were ready to use. The attackers took the prize with them.
    Down the hall in the records section, they dumped out files and tipped over desks and poured a gallon of gasoline on the pile, then threw a match into the mix and jumped out of the way of the whoosh of fire that the gas fumes ignited. They watched it burn for a moment, then rushed out. Four attackers stood guard in the hall. They were done except for one more stop. At the back of the building they found the storeroom for the kitchen. The police headquarters had a cafeteria for employees.
    Mojombo and his men looted the storage area of dozens of boxes of canned food and baked bread, and from the freezer took two quarters of frozen beef. All went onto the truck that waited at the back door.
    Mojombo blew the whistle again, and the nineteen men in his force charged through the first-floor hall and out the back door. They climbed on the open truck and Mojombo jumped in the cab. The driver gunned the rig down the narrow street and away.
    Mojombo looked over at his driver and trusted lieutenant. “Gabu. Any casualties?”
    â€œTwo wounded, not seriously. We go to the old Army fort now?”
    Mojombo smiled. Gabu had been his friend for many years, and was always eager for action, ready to strike back for the people. “Yes, Gabu. We know that half of the force there is on vacation for the holiday. Many of those left on the post will be drunk by now. We will go in the south gate, take out the guard, and charge to the supply depot on the far side. We may get there without any opposition.” He grinned. “After all, this is an Army truck.”
    Mojombo Washington relaxed for a moment. This day had been a long time coming. He had gone away to school in America, and come back home to use his knowledge and skills in helping to govern his nation. But he’d found only corruption and graft and murder at almost all levels of government. He had tried to right small wrongs, and had been thrown in jail for a year. When he got out he had started his campaign to free his nation. He left his parents’ modern home in Sierra City and took to the jungle, where government troops and police couldn’t find him. Slowly he began to gain followers, men and women who thought the way he did and were willing to fight and die to make their country free from the thieves and murders who held it captive. He had made progress, but his people still had a long way to go. He called their movement the Bijimi Loyalist Party.
    They drove down a street in the business section of Sierra City. Mojombo marveled at how the place had grown in the two years he’d been away. There were new buildings, owned and operated by President Kolda, no doubt financed with money he’d stolen from the federal treasury. Mojombo had heard there were more than 200,000 people living in his hometown now.
    â€œRoadblock,” Gabu said.
    â€œThey have put up a few lately to try to control the street traffic,” Mojombo said. “I didn’t think they would be manned this late at night. Slide up to it and stop. If the guard gives you any trouble, we’ll have to shoot him and move on. Looks like he’s Army.”
    The Sierra Bijimi soldier on duty at the roadblock saw the military truck coming, and quickly lifted the swing-down bar and gave a snappy salute. Then they were through.
    Another five miles and they were at the edge of the city and coming up to the sprawling Sierra Bijimi Army base, Fort Sierra. It wasn’t a real fort, just a collection of buildings, training