Bolan activated the DOS and adjusted the harness on his air tanks.

He was armed with a sheathed knife at his left hip and a specially designed shark gun. At one end of the underwater weapon was a rod capable of sending off a six-thousand-volt electrical charge. The gun also fired 41.8mm bullets propelled by carbon dioxide through a barrel above the shock rod. The bullets were designed to explode on contact.

Bolan climbed onto a wing of the Harrier and moved cautiously away from the fuselage, avoiding the jet engines to either side of the cockpit.

"Last chance to change your mind," warned Grimaldi.

"You know better, Jack," replied the blitzer on the wing. "Keep trying to raise Stony Man. Black out communications with me once I'm under. Try to intercept any signals from down below. That's the enemy. We still don't know if they have backup standing by."

"And you come up in forty minutes."

"Precisely forty minutes."

"And if you don't make it up in forty?"

"Then I won't be making it," Bolan replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"We've had no goddamn recon of what's waiting for you down there," Grimaldi said suddenly. "I don't like it, Striker."

"Neither do I. What's that have to do with anything?'' was Bolan's parting shot.

He adjusted his fins. He was ready.

Bolan again felt a twitch of concern at the communications breakdown with Stony Man Farm. And where the hell was Phoenix Force?

He knew a nuclear bomb in the hands of terrorists was unthinkable in the already bloody arena of Central and South American political terror that was advancing year by year toward America's border.

He put those thoughts aside. It was time for action.

"Good luck, soldier," said Grimaldi.