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Bolan fired two rounds toward the terrorist’s head

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“You’re insane!” Kairoush shouted.

“I’ve never been more stone-cold. The next ones are for real,” the Executioner vowed. “I want to know about the North Koreans. I want to know where the backpack nuke is, or how I can get to it. Or I shoot to kill.”

“I will talk!”

And he did, spinning a tale so sordid its magnitude was difficult to absorb. Bolan was turning toward Dawkins when autofire rang out, the soldier flinching as he glimpsed a ragged line of holes dancing across the terrorist’s chest.

Black-clad, armored storm troops surged into the warehouse.

“Freeze! Lose the guns!”

Bolan found himself staring at Commander Tachjine, the muzzle of the Moroccan’s machine gun pointed at his chest.

Path To War

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