A secret expedition stumbles onto a dangerous discovery...





They were pinned

The dogs and trackers came behind them. Men on horseback soon followed. Bolan watched them from behind cover. He clicked his radio. “Piet, what have you got up front?”

“Armed men, platoon strength.” Piet said.

Bolan glanced at Gilad. “Anything?”

Gilad and the guide spoke is whispered Russian. Gilad shook his head. “He says he doesn’t know who these guys are. He says despite their clothes they are not Tajik.”

Bolan surveyed their trackers. “Piet, how are the guys ahead of us armed?”

“It's all Russian kit.”

"My guys are all carrying Chinese weapons.” Bolan said and clicked his radio. “Eckhart, you there?”

“I copy, Coop.”

“I think the people in front and behind are two different groups.”

Eckhart wasn’t panicking yet but he was clearly agitated. “What are you saying, Coop?”

“I've got a theory these guys have two different agendas.” Bolan lowered his binoculars and looked at the ex-Ranger. “I say we introduce them and watch what happens.”

Look for Lethal Compound available November 10th, 2009, wherever books are sold.

What may have once saved the world could now destroy it...



Levi began to twist alarmingly in his ropes

Annja reached up and grabbed his right boot to stabilize him.Whether the experience unnerved him or not he didn’t continue the conversation. That suited Annja fine.

In the early afternoon the storm clouds returned with a suddenness that halfway tempted Annja to believe in Levi’s dueling mountain-deities. At almost the same moment a soft cry came from above and Annja looked up to see Larry’s head silhouetted against the ominous boiling clouds. She could tell he was grinning.

Less than five minutes later Levi and Larry were helping her scramble onto the top of a gently sloping plain of ice, pierced by snow-mounded juts of rock. A mile and a half ahead of her rose the snow-covered peak of Ararat. And there, a quarter mile away to the south and west of them, the long, dark mound of the Ararat Anomaly seemed to hang over the edge of the abyss.

Look for Paradox available November 10th, 2009, wherever books are sold.

Cyberterrorists plot to crash and kill...



Bolan’s thoughts turned to CLODO’s leader

He was the brains behind a number of attacks on
computer manufacturers and related businesses
during the past several months, and much more
than computers had been destroyed.

Bombs, stray bullets and other collateral damage
was always the result of warfare. But with terrorists,
It became the objective rather than an unfortunate
byproduct. Since its reorganization, CLODO’s
bombings, machine-gunning and other terrorist
strikes had claimed hundreds of lives.

The Executioner’s jaw tightened as the bloody
sight before him generated anger. He wasn’t
responsible for the death and destruction at this
CLODO safehouse.

Pierre Rouillan was responsible for the deaths of
his men.

Look for Killing Game available November 10th, 2009, wherever books are sold.

Shock waves of the past erupt deep inside earth...


“On your knees, outlander bitch!” the man shouted.
He reached for the back of her neck.

Without otherwise moving, Brigid’s right hand
lashed up, caught the man by the thumb and secured
a kote gaeshi wristlock. Twisting sharply, she took
a swift step back and kicked the man behind his left
knee. He dropped her guns to the floor.

His leg buckled and he went down awkwardly,
catching himself by his right hand. Gritting her
teeth, Brigid locked the man’s wrist under her left
arm and heaved up on it, hoping to dislocate it at
the shoulder. He cried out in pain.

Captain Saragayn lifted his right hand, the
fingers sparkling with jeweled rings. “Our guest
either does not understand either our language or
our etiquette.”

In Magindano, Brigid said, “I understand the one
and have no tolerance for the other.”

Look for Warlord of the Pit available November 10th, 2009, wherever books are sold.

A U.S. gold heist turns an African nation into a war zone...


The Executioner slowed and looked back at the American
Embassy

Kinshasa might be boiling with political intrigue,
but something Bolan had seen or heard in the CIA
observation room had put him on edge.

The instant he stepped outside the gate, Bolan
knew what it was. No fewer than three different
factions watched the front of the embassy. By
entering and leaving so openly he had become a
target.

Quinn had let him become a new pawn in a game
of political intrigue that he neither wanted nor had
the time to deal with.

Bolan was diving for cover when the first bullet
tried to find a home in his flesh. He rolled behind
a burned-out car and came to his knees, reaching
for his pistol. He scanned the area where the shots
must have come from, but saw nothing. A quick
glance in the direction of the embassy showed the
marines were alert but not willing to come out to
his aid.

The Executioner was on his own. As usual.

Look for Fire Zone wherever books are sold, October 13, 2009.

Rogue U.S. security forces profit from Afghanistan's heroin trade...

“A report?” Brognola said. “I’d like to see it.”

“I misspoke. Call it a rumor, if you like.”

“I don’t like rumors,” the big Fed stated. “Who are
these valued contractors?”

The black eyes pinned him. “Let’s cut the crap.
State officially objects to any unauthorized Justice
programs you may be running in Afghanistan. That
comes from the top. I hope it’s clear enough for
you.”

“It’s crystal clear,” Brognola said, rising to his feet.

“I can assure you without fear of contradiction that
Justice has no unauthorized programs running in
Kabul, or anywhere else. And that comes from the
top. Have a good one.”

Brognola felt them staring daggers at him as he
left. He had a problem now, a leak, and he would
have to deal with it before he and Bolan landed in a
world of hurt.

Look for Altered State wherever books are sold, October 13, 2009.

A new spark in the Middle East could ignite the ultimate global conflagration...

BROGNOLA STOOD WHERE HE WAS, WAITING

“In addition to the church in that cowboy state
of yours,” the voice said pompously over the
speakerphone, “the third suicide bomber I sent
to Israel has just eliminated close to four hundred
infidels in Tel Aviv.”

The President remained cool. “I hadn’t even heard
of the first two yet,” he said, glancing at Brognola.
“They must not have been very big.”

The voice that responded turned angry. “They were
exactly the size I wanted them to be.”

Brognola was listening to one of the biggest egos
he’d ever encountered in his long career.

“And, Allah willing, there are far bigger things to
come,” said the Iranian president.

“Are you declaring war on the United States?” the
Man asked.

But the leader of the free world got no response.

All he and Hal Brognola heard was a click as the
line went dead.

Look for Sky Sentinels wherever books are sold, October 13, 2009.

The search for a legendary creature has never been deadlier....


Annja knew there was no way she
could turn her back on her friend

Jenny had to be protected—if not from the external
threats, like the mysterious gunmen, then from herself.
Annja had seen obsession kill people and knew that
Jenny could easily fall prey to the same fate. I won’t let
her die, she thought.

Joey came back into the camp, dragging branches
behind him. “She still out?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Suddenly Annja heard a low howl of some sort. It
sounded like a cross between a coyote and a banshee.
She looked at Joey. “What the heck is that?”

Joey busied himself thatching a roof together. “I don’t
know. Now, if you’ll help me make this shelter, we can
get to bed and hopefully forget we ever heard that.
Because it’s not something I’ve ever heard before.”

“Never?” Annja asked.

“Never,” Joey said. “But whatever it is, it sounds like
it’s coming this way.”

Look for Footprints wherever books are sold, September 8, 2009.

A struggle for survival in a land of sudden death...



The ceremony was over

“I don’t know what it is we’ve stumbled into, but I’m
thinking it looks mighty big, J.B.,” Ryan said.

“Agreed,” J.B. said, quickly glancing behind them.

The Armorer pointed to the open door ahead and Ryan
took the lead, jumping onto the raised step and ducking
through the door and into the car. J.B. followed, trotting
up the step and out of the sunlight.

The interior smelled of incense, heavy and cloying, and
thick drapes hung over the windows, blocking out the
dawn light.

A lone figure sat at the table—a woman wearing a hood.
She looked up as they entered, lit by the candle before
her, and Ryan saw the deep lines of age crisscrossing
her face.

“Come in, gentlemen.”

Ryan glanced behind him, checking to see if the
sec men had followed them into the car, but no one
was there.

As they stepped closer to the elderly woman,
Ryan saw what it was that sparkled on her cheeks—
twin tears of blood. And then he felt the world drop
from beneath his feet.

Look for Alpha Wave wherever books are sold, September 8, 2009.

A power struggle has deadly consequences....


“If you do not cooperate, this
will be the day you die!”

Santiago gestured to his men. They moved to stand
one on either side of Bolan, gripping his arms
and moving him across the cell to stand in front
of a closed door on the far side. Santiago himself
reached to free the bolts that held the door shut. He
grasped the handle, ready to open it.

“In Miami you caused us a great deal of trouble. A
number of our people died because you refused to
back away. You made it clear you would refuse to
stop searching for Maggie Connor. Congratulations,
you have found her.”

Santiago pushed the door, then stepped aside so the
Executioner could be shoved toward the opening.

It was another cell. A cold and hostile place.

Bolan was staring at Maggie Connor. Or what was
left of her.

Look for Dark Alliance wherever books are sold, September 8, 2009.

A New Age death cult plots its own wave of terror....




Bolan retrieved the motorcycle and kicked it
to life“I thought…you do not…fight cop.”

“I don’t. I clotheslined a cop. Hang on.”

Bolan aimed the bike toward the on-ramp, nearly losing it as Ramzin sagged to one side and toppled
to the pavement. The Executioner spun the bike to a stop and jumped off.

The Russian’s mouth hung slack. Clear fluid leaked from the corners of his eyes. His pupils were blown.
Major Pietor Ramzin was gone.

Mack Bolan gazed down at one of the most dangerous men he had ever faced. The truth would be covered up. Bolan knew Ramzin would be crucified posthumously.

But there was one thing that couldn’t be taken from the man, even in death. Bolan took Ramzin’s Hero of the Soviet Union medal and pinned it to the dead veteran’s chest.

A revitalized foe breaches Earth's last line of defense

Brigid didn’t let her finish the sentence

Her booted foot kicked high, thumping Skylar hard
in the chest, knocking her backward once more
until she slammed into the side of the desk. “The
curious cat was killed, Skylar,” she said.

“What’s got into you?” Skylar wailed fearfully,
struggling to keep her balance as she was forced
against the desk.

“Never liked you,” Brigid said again, leaping forward,
her hands closing around Skylar’s throat. “Nosy
and arrogant because you know how to operate
computers. That’s not a talent, Skylar. That’s barely
even an ability.”

“P-please,” Skylar croaked as Brigid’s grip tightened
around her neck, “Miss Baptiste. I think something
is very wrong with you…please try to…”

She could tell that Brigid wasn’t listening, and she
struggled vainly to loosen the grip of the taller
woman. There was a dark, determined look in
Brigid’s narrowed eyes, a horrible joy in the set of
her smiling jaw. Skylar thought that she knew what
it was—bloodlust.

Look for Janus Trap, available August, 11th, 2009, wherever books are sold.

A powerful secret coalition unleashes hell across the globe...

ERUPTING FROM THE WATER, THE TEAM DREW RAGGED BREATHS

Bitter smoke billowed across the water like a
woolen blanket. In the air above them, there was
only noise and flames, bellowing madness mixed
with pitiful screams. Then a dark shadow swept
across the lock as something massive blocked out
the sun and was gone.

Hawkins started to shout something, then realized
Phoenix Force wasn’t alone in the lock. A cargo
ship was only yards away, the rust-streaked hull
rising like an iron wall alongside the men.

“Move!” McCarter shouted, lurching into a furious
swim. Starting low and slow, a swell began to
lift the team from the water being compressed
between the ship and the wall of the lock.

A split second of panic engulfed the Stony Man
team as the hull came straight for them.

Look for Terror Descending, available August 11th, 2009, wherever books are sold.

A wave of terror strikes the high seas...

The Executioner found what he’d been searching for

Once he was staring at them—a sea of yellow
canisters, each with an electronic detonator
affixed—he was almost taken aback by just how
many the Russian had managed to capture and
move. The hall was filled with them, and there
was no doubt in Bolan’s mind that the explosions
awaiting each were more than enough to produce
a toxic cloud of incredible size. Based on the
intelligence the Farm had provided, this number
of canisters would be enough to poison almost the
entire city.

He heard approaching footsteps and raised the
Beretta.

“Beautiful, is it not?” The captain stepped into
view. He was dressed in loose clothing in the local
Javanese style. He held an electronic detonator in
his hand.

“Place the detonator on the floor,” Bolan said, his
Beretta trained on the man.

“This is a standoff,” the Russian said, laughing. “At
least until I decide I wish to die. And then I will
push this button and the entire city of Semarang dies
with me.”

Look for Dangerous Tides, available August 11th, 2009, wherever books are sold.

In Nepal, many things are sacred. And worth killing for...

“You were fated to come here.”

Annja thought she showed no reaction but the monk
chuckled.

“Oh, I know that you do not believe in fate,
Annja Creed. Any more than you believe in demons.
Despite the secret burden you carry. You are simply
too polite to tell a fat old man to his face that you
believe he is, as you might say, full of it.

“You believe that only you, and those who think as
you do, see the true face of reality. I can only shake
my head sadly and hope that someday you might
see that this universe of shining gears and ratchets
you have constructed to believe in is itself merely a
glittering toy, an illusion by which you hide the truth
from your eyes.”

She started to say something. Whether to dispute him
or make some polite evasion, she didn’t know. But he
held up a chubby finger.

“No need exists for us to debate. My universe, like
your unseeing, unfeeling, uncaring machine, shall carry
on regardless of whether either of us believes or
disbelieves. I only caution you for your sake—do not
be too hasty to disbelieve in the help that comes to
you in your direst need. You can explain it away later.
What is vital to your quest, and possibly your survival,
is that you not fight it.”

She nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

Look for Seeker's Curse, available July 14, 2009, wherever books are sold.

Survive or perish in a world gone hideously wrong...

One shell hit a gren

Without warning, the wag exploded with a sudden
violence that took the Armorer by surprise.

And then it was over, almost anticlimactic. The convoy
rolled on.

The Armorer looked at Eula, who regarded him
impassively, as though the events of the firefight hadn’t
occurred, as though she were examining him in minute
detail, trying to get inside his head, unconcerned by
what had just happened.

J.B.’s sense of unease welled up with renewed vigor.
There was something odd about the whole situation,
something that could spell danger not just for him, but
for all the companions.

Something for which only he could find the answer—if
he could figure out what the question was….
Look for Desolation Crossing, available July 14, 2009, wherever books are sold.

Powerful Russian backers plot to restore the Soviet hammer

Kurtzman looked concerned

“Hal won’t be particularly pleased with you hitting up
old contacts.”

Brognola was the least of his worries, Bolan mused.
With a death squad on the loose in the streets of
London, the Executioner knew that it was time to
load up for bear.

In this particular case, the ursine was a breed the
Executioner had hunted before, a ghost species
he’d hoped had disappeared with the fall of the
Berlin Wall.

Unfortunately, the Soviet Bear was still a living, vital
threat, and its predatory hunger had claimed the
lives of two of Bolan’s old allies.

Hunting season was on again.

Look for Cold War Reprise, available July 14, 2009, wherever books are sold.

A wave of terror sweeps across an island territory....








“Everybody down!” the Executioner shouted


The machine gun outside slammed into life like
doomsday. The wooden walls of the museum were
no defense against the cigar-sized bullets that passed
through them like they were paper. Glass display
cases shattered in explosions of shrapnel shards.
Juanita was the only one to have disobeyed Bolan,
and she paid for it as a burst from the crew outside
sacrificed her to the revolution.


Bolan glanced at the Beretta in his hand. They were
definitely outgunned.


The weapon outside suddenly fell silent as it burned
up its one-hundred-round belt. The crackle and pop
of small-arms fire filled the gap as the machine-gun
crew reloaded. Bolan rose to a crouch. It was time to
move. “Everyone behind me!” he shouted.


The Executioner threw himself down again as he
heard an unmistakable sound and the real hell-storm
began.


Six-foot streaks of fire geysered through the hundred
machine-gun holes perforating the museum walls.
Somebody had brought along a flamethrower. They
were upping the ante.

Look for Crisis Nation, available July 14, 2009, wherever books are sold.

A Struggle for survival in a savage new world...

The deal was on the table.

“Come along with us to Cascade. Lend a blaster if there’s any chilling to be done on the way. The healer helps patch any wounds, and talks to the old-timers, and the six of you get a fair share of every trade I make,” Roberto stated.

Having done something similar a hundred times before during his years traveling with the Trader, Ryan was impressed. It was a fair offer. And the chance to see a predark city. Ryan got a flutter of excitement in his guts. He glanced at the others. Were they interested? Hell yeah.

“Deal,” Ryan said, offering a hand.

Looking coolly at the man he had wanted to ace only a few hours earlier, Roberto marveled at the strange complexities of life. Friends became enemies, and enemies became friends, often in less time than it took to load a blaster.

“Done, and done,” he growled, and they shook.

Look for Eden's Twilight, available June 9, wherever books are sold.

A man's quest for vengeance knows no limits...

The Executioner abandoned the trail.

He tucked the carbine in close to his chest as he zigzagged down the uneven slope. The going was precarious as the ground beneath him was clotted with loose stones and small rocks. For each sure step there would be one where the ground gave way under his weight. Several times he dropped to one knee, raising welts along his thigh as he half fell, half slid his way downhill, raising a cloud of volcanic ash and dislodging the gravel around him. It was as if he’d become a one-man avalanche.

After another twenty yards, the ground abruptly fell away and he was thrown forward, off balance, into a deep recess. He struck the far edge of the gully knee-first, then with his shoulder, jarring his carbine loose. The rifle sailed past him and rolled sideways another five yards before coming to a rest. Bolan, meanwhile, slumped into the cavity, dazed. He had the presence of mind to drop as low as he could, avoiding the stream of gunfire that, moments later, skimmed past the gully’s rim. As he waited for his head to clear, the Executioner reached for his web holster, unsheathing his Beretta.

He was down but not out.

Look for Loose Cannon, available June 9, wherever books are sold.

The green movement is going blood red...

“PRIORITIES?”

“The recovery of the enriched uranium,” Brognola said. “That’s the top threat. Next, we need to know just how far the connection between the WWUP and these domestic and international terror organizations goes.”

“On it,” Lyons said.

“Coordinate through Barb to have the Farm deliver anything additional you’ll need,” Brognola said. “I’ll arrange for a liaison with local law enforcement both in Chicago and wherever the trail ultimately takes you.”

“You sound like you have someplace in mind.”

“I might. Reginald Butler has long been a political activist. He’s one of the richest men in America, and if he’s mixed up in any of this, or even if he’s simply letting his company sell the Seever units to foreign nationals with ties to terror, I want him taken down.”

“Could get sticky,” Blancanales said dubiously. “Government operatives pressuring an American entrepreneur who’s already complaining about governmental harassment.”

“We don’t exist,” Brognola said. “We do, therefore, what we have to do.”

Drawpoint is available June 9, wherever books are sold.

The jungle offers escape. And another way to die.

“You think I can do this?” Annja asked.

Vic laughed. “Well, you know, you’ve got a pretty strong motivational factor going for you.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, if you don’t hold your own, I’ll leave you behind. These woods are about to turn ugly on me as well. The people I annoyed last night will be out in force looking for yours truly. I’m not hanging around any longer than I have to.”

“You’d leave me behind?” Annja asked.

“In a heartbeat, sister. I’ve got my own agenda to play to. Sorry to break your heart and all.”

Annja frowned. “You’re not breaking my heart,” she said.

Vic smiled. “Let’s get moving.”

Annja stood and rubbed on some more mosquito repellent. Vic hefted his rifle and then stopped. “Here,” he said, holding out a small-caliber pistol. “You know how to use one?”

Annja took the gun, dropped the magazine and racked the slide. As the bullet in the chamber spun out, she caught it in her hand. Then she topped off the magazine, rammed it home and racked the slide again.

“Yeah, I think I can handle it,” she said.

Vic nodded and grinned. “You’re not exactly a damsel in distress, are you?”

Look for Sacrifice May 12, wherever books are sold.

Escaped Annunaki slaves unleash their millennia-old agenda of domination

The monster held in place for a moment

Then the huge beast staggered, a brief three-step dance across the sand, before bellowing another of its unearthly banshee wails, boiling saliva pluming around its face.

Kane watched in horror as the monster threw the crocodile-masked Incarnate to one side, and the man went head over heels before slumping to the ground, covered in sand. At the same time, the monster seemed to turn, to spin in place, its reverse-hinged legs kicking up great clumps of sand, moving faster and faster.

A blur, and then nothing. The creature was gone.

Kane rushed over before Brigid could stop him, ignoring her pleas to be careful. There was a hole in the ground now, a roughly circular tunnel that appeared to go straight down. Kane could hear scrabbling down there as the nightmarish creature disappeared from view, and he kept his Sin Eater trained on the opening in the sand for a long moment, debating in his mind whether he should follow.

Look for Shadow Box May 12, wherever books are sold.

Bolan hunts down a criminal consortium in Croatia...

Bolan cocked an eyebrow. “The Company asked for help?”

Brognola shrugged. “Their best operatives are running in Pakistan and Iraq these days.”

“So I’m supposed to enter a section of the city of Split that is a law unto itself. A place where everyone is pretending to be something they aren’t. Then I start following up leads to find two people who have disappeared, but whose disappearances may or may not be linked.”

Brognola nodded. “Yeah. That about sums it up. But don’t forget, if anyone suspects you’re an American agent, there are about one hundred intelligence and terrorist cells who’ll try to kill you.”

Bolan leaned back. “When do I leave?”

Look for Interception May 12, wherever books are sold.

Bolan must extinguish the flames of extremism...

The gunners hit the ground running.

Bolan didn’t wait for them to organize. He fired a three-round burst into the nearer chase car’s windshield, where the driver’s head should be, and thought he heard a strangled cry before all hell broke loose around him.

Bolan couldn’t accurately count the muzzle flashes winking at him from behind the headlights, but he thought that there were only five. If he was right, if he had drawn first blood with the unlucky driver, then he had already shaved the hostile odds by seventeen percent.

That still left five assassins, armed and angry, throwing down at him with everything they had.

Aolani’s car would never be the same. Bullets were raking it from grill to trunk along the driver’s side, some of them coming through the now shattered windows. So far, Bolan could not smell any leaking gasoline, but that was just dumb luck. Both tires were already deflated on the driver’s side, and Bolan knew they wouldn’t leave the Punchbowl in it.

Assuming they ever left at all.

Look for Pele's Fire May 12, wherever books are sold.