A moving shadow was all the warning the Executioner had
Bolan did a full running roll to get out of the way as a machete glinted in the moonlight.
âGot to kill you,â the heavily accented voice said. âFor the Obeah Man.â
Bolan kept moving and came up with the Desert Eagle in his hand. He needed someone left alive who could talk, so he fired low, blowing out the manâs kneecap.
The posse member screamed and went down, and Bolan immediately turned back to the driveway, hoping to catch up to his target. But the car kicked up gravel as it peeled away, and he got only a glimpse insideâenough to see that the Obeah Man was getting away.
Bolan walked back to the man screaming on the ground and kicked the machete out of reach. âWe need to have a talk.â
âScrew you!â the man muttered.
âItâs a start,â the Executioner said. âBut Iâm looking for something a little more informative.â
Everyone has his superstitions. One of mine has always been when I started to go anywhere, or to do anything, never turn back or to stop until the thing intended was accomplished.
âUlysses S. Grant
1822â1885
Each mission has its challenges, and the path to resolution is never predictable. But regardless of the hurdles, I promise to always follow through until every last enemy is taken care ofâ¦one way or another.
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.
Prologue
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
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
âShiver shot!â everyone screamed at once, laughing and giggling.
Bastiene âSpookâ Durene smiled at the group of college students seated around the table, while the young woman to his right blushed. For their evening entertainment, theyâd chosen a popular drinking game called Suicide Kings, and with some subtle manipulation of the cards, heâd drawn the King of Spades.
They were far too drunk to realize heâd been stacking the deck all night, moving the game to the outcome he desired, while ensuring his own sobriety. There was too much to accomplish this night to allow himself to become inebriated. Bastiene pointed a long finger at the woman, then picked up a thin wedge of lime from the bowl on the table. âYou,â he said, pitching his voice low enough so that only she could hear him.
âMe,â she said, blushing again as he placed the lime between her lips. She grasped it between her teeth.
He leaned closer, then slowly ran his tongue along her neck. She shivered and he smiled once more, hiding his grin beneath a long curl of her hair. Everything was going according to plan. He reached for the saltshaker and tossed a few shakes at the damp line heâd put on her neck, then he licked it clean, drank off the shot of tequila and moved to her lips. He took the lime from her mouth into his, turning it into a deep kiss.
âMmm,â he whispered against her neck as the kiss ended. âI be bettinâ you glamity tastes even finer.â Bastiene purposely used the Jamaican accent and slang she and her friends expected, though he could, and often did, speak perfect English.
âGlamity?â she asked, giggling.
âI be showinâ you soon,â he said. âAnd you be showinâ me.â
The young woman laughed and leaned away. Her name was Amber Carson. Tall and seductive, she had a body that would make any frat boy her willing slave. She pushed a strand of her blond hair over her shoulder as she moved the shot glasses out of the way. So far, sheâd already had six shots of from the large bottle of tequila. This night, all his work would pay off. This was Amberâs fourth trip to Jamaica, and each time, heâd made a point of meeting her, getting to know her a little bit better. He tried not to laugh as she even now had to puzzle over the true meaning of his words.