But Bolan had no intention of failing.

Too much was at stake.

He checked his watch. It looked as if he was going to be late back to the hotel. He was thinking about Danny — about how quickly he'd gotten used to her smile, her vitality, her undeniable good looks — when he spotted the car coming up from the rear.

The Dodge must have been lurking behind that fisherman's shack he passed a couple of miles back. It was the only cover along this stretch of highway.

Bolan accelerated, but still not pushing the Hog to its limit. His pursuers kept coming on hard. There were two guys in the Charger, and they didn't look like rich kids out for a joyride. The Executioner snaked through a double bend, straightening out as the wheels drummed on the concrete bridge over a sluggish inlet. He figured there was about another ten miles of desert before they reached the outskirts of the town. The guys behind didn't want him to get that far.

They were now close enough to nudge his tail — and that was the next move they made. Once, twice... they bumped hard into the rear end of the Hog. Bolan juggled the wheel, retaining control, waiting to make his play. A truck trundled past in the opposite direction. The way ahead was clear on both sides. Bolan snapped home the shoulder strap. He switched lanes fast and braked.

They were still right behind him.

This guy was a better wheelman than Hanzal's driver in Florida. Bolan was itching to grab the Uzi and empty a full magazine through their windshield. But that could blow the whole mission.

Anyway, he was not sure they were trying to kill him.

Maybe they just wanted to shake him up a little with their crazy stunts; scare him enough to catch the next plane out. Bad move. They were making Bolan angry.

Okay, Red, time to test this Hog of yours!

Bolan suddenly shot across the shoulder, mounted the bank and plunged into the scrubland without lifting his foot from the accelerator. And the Dodge still kept right on coming!

Bolan shook his head. They had tried it in Florida and now they were pushing him again. But Zayoud's men didn't faze Bolan one bit.

They were in for trouble if they tried to keep up with him.

He threaded the needle between two barbed clumps of thorn bushes and bounded through an arid wash. The tires clawed hold of the loose shale on the far side as the Hog rocketed over the eroded wasteland. The Dodge lost a couple of hubcaps and had its panels scratched chasing after the American driver. Although by now his vision was slightly blurred from the savage ride, Bolan spotted another fissure off to the left ahead.

He aimed at the drop.

There was only air under his wheels as he went over the edge. He hit that ancient silt bed below with a force that would have registered twelve to fifteen on any meter. But he was off and running true. The rear suspension boogies and constant velocity joints fitted by Chandler could take this slamming in stride.

The chase car struck the ground with a teeth-rattling jolt that threatened to disintegrate it. The last two hubcaps went clattering across the dirt.

Bolan's vehicle was throwing out a choking cloud of grit that left the others blind. They hit a huge pothole and tore out a couple of struts.

The Charger slewed around in a crazy circle and was swallowed in the billowing dust.

The flog hummed across the undulating sand, then slithered down the slope and onto the road again.

Bolan stopped the vehicle, then looked around.

Satisfied that there was no further threat from his pursuers, he started off again. He'd have good news for Red Chandler.

Danica Jones paced angrily across the hotel room. Her small suite at the International, courtesy of Allied Oil, could have been a businessman's stopover anywhere in the world.

The recorded monotone of the muezzin calling the faithful to prayer echoed over the darkening city. She checked the digital clock once more. She was mad at Mack Bolan. Not for being late Danny wasn't that petty. But for palming her off on Salim Zakir so readily. If he wanted her to act as a decoy to keep the Khurabian authorities distracted, he might at least have let her in on his plan.

And she knew Bolan wanted to leave her behind to make a show of working on the Haufari dig for a couple of days. She had agreed to do that in advance, but now that she was out here Danny wanted to stick with him. Crazy! She knew the danger they faced if anything went wrong. But she felt this pull, this need, to confront the challenge that lay ahead.

It was her own confused feelings that caused this sudden frustration, Danny admitted to herself. She wasn't really mad at him. If something did go wrong on this rescue mission, then she wanted to be at Bolan's side. The plain truth was that this man had kindled emotions in her she had long thought so utterly repressed that she would never feel them again.

This was ridiculous. She was acting like a schoolgirl. But that didn't stop her from rehearsing in front of the bathroom mirror. Danny tried on her sternest frown.

Three sharp raps on the door.

Danny ran over, opened it and said, "Hi, I was worried about..." She did not finish.

It wasn't Bolan.

Two men stood in the corridor; the shorter one held a pistol. It was pointed at her stomach.

She tried to slam the door in their faces. The bigger of these two local thugs jammed it with his foot, then reached forward and grabbed Danny's shoulder.

She felt that big hairy paw clamp hold with a viselike grip. Danny was lifted bodily through the doorway.

"You will come with us! Now!"

"Okay, King Kong, but you can let go of me." She tried to shake him loose. Nothing doing. His fingers dug deeper into her flesh as he propelled her toward the service elevator.

The other guy helped steer by jabbing her in the ribs with his gun.

There was a sickening chill in the pit of her stomach. Yes, thought Danny, this would have been a very good moment to have Mack at her side.

The hog drew some curious stares from the young dudes out cruising along the waterfront; even with the unlimited funds at their disposal they hadn't seen anything quite like that on four wheels before.

There was an insane sense of urgency about the construction of the new city. It was as if they were racing to build a modern metropolis, an unfinished version of Manhattan dotted with minarets right out of Arabian Nights, before the oil patch was bled dry; though what they would do with it after that was anyone's guess.

The past and the future seemed to be fighting for control of Khurabi. The spiked towers of the minarets were squeezed between the dazzling new office blocks and hotels.

Bolan slowed down as he entered the city core.

He noted there were a lot of police patrols on the streets. Keeping a watchful eye on all the traffic signals, Bolan cruised into town, reviewing his battle plans once more. Maybe he should go tonight. The Hog was packed and ready for action.

He'd just proved it. And those two guys in the wrecked Charger would not be stranded back there for long.

He was confident that he could trust Danny to do her part; so far she had proved to be efficient, thorough and fast. He could not have mounted this Khurabian mission half as quickly without her invaluable aid.

Bolan stopped for a red light. He was mentally juggling his own schedule with the carefully timed arrangements that he had already set up with Jack Grimaldi and Steve Hohenadel.

There were no safe lines he could trust in Khurabi, no way to set up a conference call on this thing. He was out on the end of a string. Anyway, if he started off tonight, it might give him more time to recon the fortress at Hagadan. And that wasn't a bad idea, not with the figures Kurtzman had passed on just before they landed. His mind made up on advancing the timetable, Bolan now decided to park the Hog around the back of the hotel.