Extreme Force

Cold metal touched Bolan's neck.   "There is nothing I would like more than to kill you, but Carlos wants you for himself."

The elevator car climbed slowly.   Bolan stood with his arms outstretched, his palms against the doors.  He could see the control panel near his left hand and the red button that meant the difference between his life and death.  When Scarface glanced up at the floor-indicator arrow, the Executioner made his move.

The Brazilian tried to get off a shot, but the jolt of the car lurching to a halt threw him against the rear wall.  Bolan turned and pistoned his knee into his enemy's chest, dazing him.  He followed up with a chop to the wrist, forcing the man to drop his weapon.

Scarface was tough.  He absorbed the punch without flinching, shifted and suddenly had a 9mm automatic in his hand.   His scar flushed red with anger, he lunged, pressed the muzzle of the gun to the warrior's chest and squeezed the trigger.

Rogue Agent

Mack Bolan let up on the trigger.   All he could see of his adversary was one foot and one ear.  For a few seconds no one moved.

The Japanese shifted so that he could study the Executioner.  "You are the man from last night.  the one we were not able to kill.  You will drop your pistol or the woman dies."  He pressed the blade against the Russian's neck to emphasize his demand.

"Kill her," Bolan growled.

"You would stand there and let me slit her throat?  You would let your own countryman die?"

"I'm Russian.  I'm American."

"Whatever you are, I do not believe you want her harmed.  Drop your weapon and step back."

The woman's eyes pleaded with Bolan "Do not worry about me.  Shoot him!"

The terrorist cuffed the Russian behind her head.  "Shut up!"

The Executioner saw his chance.   The Japanese had unwittingly exposed half his face.  But the numbers had run down.

From the stairs outside came the thud of running feet.  Reinforcements had just arrived.