Defense Breach. Don Pendleton

blazing away with the Desert Eagle in his left, halting the man’s progress toward the cannon and driving him back into the same gully as his teammate. A series of angry curses told him he had hit, albeit not fatally, the gunner trying to reach the microwave weapon.

      With his enemies now occupying positions where they could battle him with only their heads exposed above the lip of the gully, the situation was classic trench warfare. Two adversarial forces separated by a no-man’s land one hundred yards wide, with the microwave cannon occupying a position equidistant from both sides. In this situation, the day would belong to the combatant who could flush the other from cover.

      Bolan holstered his Beretta, changed out magazines in the Desert Eagle and, while sporadically firing well-aimed shots to prevent his foes from advancing, reached into one of the pouches on his web belt containing a length of thin cord resembling braided dental floss. The three-hundred-foot length of specialty twine was fine enough to fold entirely in the palm of his hand while possessing all the strength of mountaineering rope.

      Remaining behind the fuselage of his late adversary’s snowmobile, Bolan reached up and wrapped a section of the cord around the vehicle’s throttle to provide a steady fuel supply. When he turned the ignition key, the engine sprang to life, purring in neutral while he twisted the handlebars to aim the snowmobile toward the gully holding his foes. With the rounds from his Desert Eagle keeping his opponents pinned, Bolan used his free hand to unhook two concussion grenades from his combat belt’s webbing and set the fuses to their maximum thirty seconds. Throwing the shift into gear, he dropped the apple-shaped bombs into the snowmobile’s two cup holders and released the vehicle.

      The snowmobile moved on a perfectly straight course from Bolan to the gully, where it toppled into the depression, carrying its lethal load into the trench occupied by the two gunmen. When the grenades detonated with an eardrum-throbbing concussion, they ignited the vehicle’s gas tank, spraying the fuel through the trench in a firestorm reminiscent of a Vietnam napalm attack. The ferocious explosion left no doubt regarding its effectiveness, but Bolan had his Desert Eagle loaded, cocked and held at the ready when he walked to the edge of the snow gully to investigate the damage. His former adversaries were charred beyond recognition, calling to mind the corpse he had discovered inside the cabin.

      The Executioner walked slowly back to his snowmobile, started the engine and drove to the microwave weapon. With a remaining section of the cord, he was able to securely attach the sled to his vehicle before setting off toward the North Dakota border approximately seven hours distant. When he got close to the States, he’d come into range of a telephone tower enabling him to make an encrypted call to Barbara Price, Stony Man Farm’s mission controller. She would take care of the necessary cleanup and the retrieval of remains to be delivered to the families of the Nautech engineers.

      The hunting horn had been sounded. There were miles to go before the Executioner would find rest.

      2

      Ali Ansari Hasseim squinted against the water’s glare as he gazed southwest from the outskirts of Bandar-e Abbas, a biblical town on Iran’s Persian coast across the channel from Qeshm Island. Below him sat the narrow Strait of Hormuz, through which twenty percent of the world’s oil supply passed. The busy waterway was bordered by Iran, Oman’s Musandam Peninsula and the United Arab Emirates. Were it not for the region’s constant political unrest, the Iranian shoreline’s rugged beauty and perfect climate would have the potential to make the locale one of the world’s top vacation destinations. As it was, however, there were no vacationers in the vicinity. Most of those who ventured along the scenic trails traversed by Hasseim and his ilk were heavily armed with the intent to kill.

      For centuries, the coastal strip on which Hasseim and his four companions stood had been recognized as a strategic key to controlling the entire Persian Gulf. Blocking the landlocked waterway’s sole egress at the point where it emptied into the Indian Ocean’s Gulf of Oman was a tactic used at a time when the only power available for ships came from either the wind or human rowers. In contemporary times, closing the Strait of Hormuz would create a logjam, snarling military and commercial traffic alike. In such a situation, American warships patrolling the Gulf would be sitting ducks.

      Wind gusts hugging the shoreline whipped a combination of sea salt and desert dust into thin clouds that raced across the land break. Hasseim avoided breathing the gritty mixture by pulling a corner of his black checkered kaffiyeh over his nose and mouth, covering the jagged scar that ran from his left earlobe to the edge of his lower lip, tugging his mouth into a perpetual frown.

      In the distance, silhouetted against the horizon out beyond the islands of Hormoz and Larak, Hasseim could see the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower, one of the United States Navy’s nuclear aircraft carriers. At the sight of the occupying force, Hassein’s heartbeat quickened in anger. Bitter bile found its way into his mouth, causing him to turn from his companions while he lifted the corner of his kaffiyeh and spit the rancid liquid onto the ground where it was immediately absorbed into the dust.

      His network of spies kept Hasseim informed as to the location of the other CVN-class ship in the region, enabling him to redirect missile deployments when necessary. The militia commander was fully aware that when the time arrived to punish the infidels for invading and occupying sacred soil, the window of opportunity would be short-lived. For a missile attack on multiple targets to be successfully coordinated, prior placement of troops and equipment was absolutely critical.

      As he waited for his captives to be delivered, Hasseim mentally inventoried his militia’s missile stocks. In the area around Bandar-e Lengeh at the mouth of the strait, trusted fighters possessed more than four hundred American-made FIM-92A Stinger missiles. The shoulder-launched weapons had been among tens of thousands provided by the CIA in 1979 to mujahideen guerrillas engaged in their nine-year war against the Soviets in Afghanistan. Two decades later, when Western forces responding to the 9/11 attacks toppled the country’s Taliban government, they attempted to round up and confiscate an estimated thirty thousand residual Stingers. But in a swiftly deteriorating country where there were more pressing priorities for the NATO troops than disarming regional warlords, a hastily conducted campaign yielded less than six thousand missiles. The remainder were quickly reallocated throughout the Middle East to Islamic militias such as Hasseim’s. With the ability to deliver a 2.2-pound high-explosive warhead at supersonic Mach 2 speed from a range of up to five miles, the thirty-five-pound highly portable Stingers were major assets for any militant organization.

      In addition to the Stingers, Hasseim also had access to six hundred Soviet SA-7 Grail missiles that had been sold indiscriminately to anyone willing to meet the asking price when the Communist empire collapsed. Although Grails were considerably less accurate than the heat-seeking Stingers, they possessed a range of almost four miles and, in quantity, could overcome their accuracy deficiency and contribute significantly to overall success.

      All told, Hasseim held the means to attack the two United States aircraft carriers patrolling the channel’s narrow passageway at Hormuz with more than one thousand missiles. Troops to the southeast in Sirik would join fighters positioned in Bandar-e Lengeh at the mouth of the strait and across the waterway in Al Khasab to completely surround backlogged targets. Hundreds of missiles guided by infrared seekers would come raining down from all sides onto the enemy’s warships, delivering a stunning statement about the technological capabilities possessed by local Islamic militias. While certainly not on par with the glorious 9/11 attacks conducted on the barbarians’ own soil, Hasseim believed his offensive could be a decisive blow toward ending American occupation of the region. The only hurdle remaining was a computer system onboard American carriers that automatically shielded the vessels while engaging incoming targets. Hasseim now possessed one-half of a program that could disarm the protective system. If all went according to plan, he’d have the other half very soon.

      At the moment, his activities were intended to misdirect the Americans. Hasseim didn’t know if his plans would be discovered prior to launching an attack, but if they were, he wanted to make sure the Americans were searching in the wrong direction until he had the time he needed.

      The four men accompanying their field commander were dressed in dark pants and brown shirts with long sleeves. On their feet