Rifle rounds followed Bolan
They kicked up dirt and grass all around him, lodging in the tree trunk as he popped back to his feet behind the pine tree.
Bolan stared in the moonlight, following the angle of the shots back to a man who stood partially out of the guard shack, wielding an M-16.
He aimed, pulled the trigger of his gun and sent two rounds into the guardâs shoulder, causing him to drop his weapon. A look of shock covered the manâs face for an instant before Bolan squeezed the trigger again, and the man fell out of the shack onto the pavement.
Bolan leaned out from around the tree trunk and sighted down the barrel. A lone round took out the second man at the gate. The third sentry was still hiding inside the small building, covered from the waist down by concrete but visible through the glass in the top of the window.
He aimed at the manâs head and pulled the trigger. His slug struck the glass then ricocheted off with a loud whine. The window was bullet resistantâbut nothing was completely bullet proof.
Bolan left the cover of the tree and raced toward the open door of the shack. The final sentry was squatting with his gun in hand, looking straight at him as Bolan fired his weapon. In the end, all of the concrete and bullet-resistant glass in the world hadnât helped him, and the guard fell on his face just as dead as the others.
The yard grew silent. Then, in the distance, Bolan heard sirens and he knew that the fighting had raised alarms.
The Executioner had to get away. Fast.
The laws are silent in the midst of arms.
âMarcus Tullius Cicero
106 BCâ43 BC
I will go around the law to catch the bad guys, if I have to. And I will break the law to stop them, if all else fails. I will do what needs to get doneâwhenever, wherever, however.
âMack Bolan
THE MACK BOLAN LEGEND
Nothing less than a war could have fashioned the destiny of the man called Mack Bolan. Bolan earned the Executioner title in the jungle hell of Vietnam.
But this soldier also wore another nameâSergeant Mercy. He was so tagged because of the compassion he showed to wounded comrades-in-arms and Vietnamese civilians.
Mack Bolanâs second tour of duty ended prematurely when he was given emergency leave to return home and bury his family, victims of the Mob. Then he declared a one-man war against the Mafia.
He confronted the Families head-on from coast to coast, and soon a hope of victory began to appear. But Bolan had broken societyâs every rule. That same society started gunning for this elusive warriorâto no avail.
So Bolan was offered amnesty to work within the system against terrorism. This time, as an employee of Uncle Sam, Bolan became Colonel John Phoenix. With a command center at Stony Man Farm in Virginia, he and his new alliesâAble Team and Phoenix Forceâwaged relentless war on a new adversary: the KGB.
But when his one true love, April Rose, died at the hands of the Soviet terror machine, Bolan severed all ties with Establishment authority.
Now, after a lengthy lone-wolf struggle and much soul-searching, the Executioner has agreed to enter an âarmâs-lengthâ alliance with his government once more, reserving the right to pursue personal missions in his Everlasting War.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Mack Bolan, aka the Executioner, lowered his left elbow slightly, stopping a right jab to the ribs from his left-handed opponent. He countered with a quick right cross which was also blocked. Slowly, the two men circled, sizing each other up and looking for weaknesses in the otherâs defense. A fierce left hook came suddenly toward the Executionerâs face but he ducked under it, bobbing slightly to the side. In his mind, it registered that the southpaw he faced had dropped his left shoulder before delivering the blow. As well, Bolan realized the man had telegraphed the hook the same way each time heâd tried that punch.
The left hook was obviously the manâs favored attack, and the pressure Bolan had felt when it landed on his arms told him it was powerful. Full of strength, and speed, the man could easily knock out an opponent if it landed solidly.
So, the soldier decided, it was time to set the man up and take advantage of his âtell.â
Bolan backed away slightly, letting his opponent move closer. He ducked a wild right-handed âhaymaker,â then bobbed under another jab that followed it. Then, intentionally raising his left, he opened up his rib cage for the hook he hoped to draw from the other man.
It worked as if by magic.
Sweat poured from the other manâs face as he dipped his shoulder in preparation to launch the hook.
Bolan didnât give him the chance. Stepping in swiftly, he dealt his opponent a powerful overhand right, which nailed the man squarely in the middle of the forehead. The man stumbled backward. Bolan shuffled closer again, jabbing a left into the manâs midsection, which caused him to drop both of his hands.