Code of Conflict

Tires squealing, the tanker careened into a turn.   The Executioner was thrown to the right, his hand  losing some of its purchase, the weight of his body working against him.  Gritting his teeth, he hung on.

Hunching his shoulders, the soldier heaved himself upward.  His clawed right hand closed on the strip of metal, his scrabbing feet narrowly missing the side step.

The tanker abruptly took another turn.  It keeled wildly, like a ship about to capsize.  Bolan was catapulted toward the front with such force, his hands were torn from the strip.

With nothing to hold onto, he plummeted downward.

Evil Alliance

As the leader touched the button to close the elevator door, Bolan commented, "I saw smoke coming out of one of the shafts."

"We blew the other cables, but not this one," the leader said in halting English, "in case a strategic retreat was called for."

"Who are you," Bolan asked, "and what do you want with me?"

"We've been watching you, American.  We hunt the same quarry."  Not so much as a hint of friendliness was visible in the man's face.  "We will compare notes, as you would say.  You will tell me who you work for and why you are after Sin Mak-Fang."

"If I refuse?"

"I would not recommend it.  The last person who refused to tell me what I wanted to know was found floating facedown in the Yellow Sea."