And Parelli could be right.

Vague, ominous rumbles had reached Bolan that it was about to go down in Chicago.

Another power play in this sprawling metropolis that had been an organized crime stronghold since the days of Capone and before.

This was not the Executioner's first thrust into this nest of thieves by any means, but the Mob had managed to regroup since the last time and one name, Parelli, had surfaced. That cannibal was clawing and killing his way up through the ranks to try for a grab at the real reins of power.

Bolan was going to make sure it did not happen.

Crazy?

No more so than a gang of two-bit scum in north-side mansions and limos and four-hundred-dollar silk suits who had parlayed their way to control a multi-billion-dollar-a-year industry.

The nation's cities were rife with these savages who peddled heroin and degraded women through prostitution. The Mob was involved in countless so-called legitimate operations like infiltration of unions and on and on, all made possible through fear, intimidation and murder that went unpunished.

Bolan had allies in this crazy war of his, too.

Others who were fed up with scum going free because the courts had revolving doors and were full of slick legal experts who laughed at the laws while they twisted and used them.

Bolan counted among his allies some high-level government people; the same government that officially listed the Executioner at the top of every Most Wanted list extant, as well as on the Terminate On Sight lists of the FBI, the CIA, the whole alphabet soup of government law and spy agencies.

The health club appeared empty except for the man with the AutoMag.

Swirling tentacles of smoke followed Bolan down the hallway.

The New Age Center was only the beginning of this hit on Chicago.