However, the more immediate threat to his safety was posed by Thomas Loomis, a pipe-smoking investigator for Technilok Security who had cracked every case of industrial espionage he'd taken on. And Loomis was hot on Gershen's trail. But he had not counted on another kind of heat, in the form of hurtling lead, waiting to put him out of business permanently. Yes, Jago Gershen was very good at what he did. Very professional.

He deserved the Executioner.

And the coldly efficient H and K PSG 1.

When it came to termination, they, too, were state of the art.

* * *

Gershen's face creased into a thin smile as he congratulated himself on his timing. He had chosen the right moment to get out. The U.S. federal agents were tied up in red tape in Canada. And Loomis was still methodically checking out leads in Marseilles. The secret of Gershen's success so far lay in always staying one step ahead.

He swung the Mercedes to the left up the mountain road, then noted the time on the German luxury car's dashboard clock. Fifty minutes still remained before the Russian ship was due to sail.

He would make it with time to spare.

Gershen had served his Soviet masters well.

There was no way they would refuse him sanctuary now, not with the papers he carried in his aluminum briefcase: the parallel processor plans for the Supercyber 3000. The blueprints for this intricate maze of module arrays would more than cover his ass.

* * *

Bolan stowed the field glasses and took up his firing position. The off-white Mercedes appeared like a pale ghostly chariot in the scope. The Executioner heard the change in the engine's pitch as the driver shifted down coming out of the bend, then gunned the sedan up the next incline.

Bolan led by a fraction and squeezed the trigger.

The right front tire shredded.

There was no time for Gershen to regain control as the car skidded toward the unprotected shoulder. The Mercedes slithered sideways over the cliff edge.