TERRORISTS PLOT TO POISON
AMERICA'S FOOD SUPPLY!

Bolan awoke to find himself lying on an operating tabl

A pair of green eyes peered at him from over a hospital
face mask. Kristen Kemp sewed the last stitches into his
shoulder and said, “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Where are we?” he asked.

“In my clinic.”

Bolan sat up and tried to collect his thoughts. “How long
was I out?” he asked.

“About an hour,” she said.

Bolan remained silent, contemplating the likelihood that
they’d been followed.
Kemp put her hands on Bolan’s shoulders and tried to
get him to lie back down. “You should rest.”

“We’re not safe here,” Bolan said.

“Grassy Butte has two hundred and fifty people, and I
know every last one of them. No one’s going to harm us
here,” she said as she covered his wounds with sterile
bandages.

“Whatever you thought you knew about this place
changed the moment we got shot at yesterday,” he told
her. “Something big is going on here—and it’s damned
dangerous.”

Before Kemp could respond, Bolan saw the shadow of
a man holding what could only be a gun outlined in the
window. He grabbed Kemp’s shoulders and flipped her
over him, as automatic gunfire tore through the walls of
the clinic.

Hurling himself on top of her, Bolan had just one more
question. “Where are my weapons?”

 Available May 10th, 2011, wherever books are sold!