capable of tearing through the solid metal of an automobile engine block. The gun requires a bolt with six locking lugs to contain explosive internal gas pressures. The weapon also requires a powerful grasp.

An easy match for this big man, who now slid the hand howitzer back into its holster.

He unlatched his car door and left the Vette, heading directly, briskly, toward the front entrance of the New Age Center. His steady footfalls crunched ice and hard-packed snow.

The doorman spotted the tall dude striding toward the building.

The muscle-bound baldy did not take his narrowed, scrutinizing eyes from the figure in dark slacks and jacket coming his way, even as he held open the glass doors for another arm-in-arm, laughing couple who floated out of the health club and down stone steps past Bolan.

Bolan pushed inside, knocking the door handle out of the guy's grip.

The doorman was actually a bouncer, and he took exception to the way this new arrival, whom he did not recognize, tried to get past him.

He snarled something and started forward toward Bolan, huge fists clenching.

"You're not a member..." he began.

Bolan reached out and grabbed the collar of the man's T-shirt and the belt at the back of his slacks. He twisted slightly, using the bouncer's forward momentum to sail the giant out through the door.

The glass shattered and thousands of razor-sharp shards tinkled to the ground as the doorman hurtled headfirst down the stone steps. He uttered a howl of pain, and trickles of blood spiderwebbed across his bald pate as he landed in the snow and lay unmoving beneath the entranceway.

Bolan continued on into the subdued illumination and tasteful decor of the health spa's lobby.

Chic onlookers, dangling Adidas gym bags, watched him with a mixture of fascination and horror.

The lobby of the New Age Center reminded Bolan of a blend between a singles' bar and a top-line country club. Indirect lighting played discreetly on expensive mahogany and leather.