American extremists plan a terror strike!

The armor-piercing slug sizzled past Bolan’s face

It singed his cheek with its hot tailwind as Bolan threw himself behind the
exit housing. Though the metal door and plaster walls concealed him from
the sniper, they wouldn’t stop the Barrett’s rounds from finding flesh and bone.

The shooter quickly demonstrated, slamming his next shot right through the
structure three feet above roof level, where a crouching man’s head might be

found. Bolan was lower, lying prone, but his would-be killer still had six shots
left before he’d be forced to reload—virtually guaranteeing at least one stunning hit.

It was time to move—no mistake.

But left or right? It was a gamble, either way, and Bolan knew that he was 

running out of time.

He hedged his bets, triggered a shot around the right hand corner—the shooter’s
left—then rolled out the other way as two suppressed rounds ripped into the wall
that had shielded him. One blew away a fist-size chunk of plaster, while the second
came through, dead-on, where Bolan had been a heartbeat earlier.

And by that time, the Executioner was clear, wide open for the man who meant to
kill him, scuttling across the sun-baked roof on stinging hands and knees, seeking a
kill-shot of his own.

Available June 2011 wherever books are sold.