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“Change of plans,” Bolan snapped. “Follow me.”

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The Executioner turned and raced with the hostage toward a line of vehicles. A shot rang out behind them, followed instantly by a dozen volleys.

Turning, Bolan raked the compound with a long burst from his Steyr AUG. Mandy fumbled with her pistol, getting off several shots, yelping as a round stung her palm.

Reaching the motor pool, Bolan chose a jeep at random, slid behind the wheel and gunned its engine into snarling life as Mandy scrambled into the shotgun seat.

“Hang on!” he said, flooring the gas pedal, barreling through the middle of the camp to reach the access road—and freedom.

Conflict Zone

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