“This is for Beth Hanover.”

The Executioner got back in the Chevy, raced the engine and stormed after the last crew wagon.

He saw a white handkerchief flutter.

Bolan killed the Chevy’s screaming engine fifty feet from the dead Cadillac.

“We give up!” a voice shouted.

“You wanted Franconi, you got him!” someone else said.

Bolan fired three rounds from the French army rifle into the windowless Caddy.

“You give up the way you let Beth Hanover give up when you raped and tortured her last night?”

“Franconi did it!” came a third voice.

Three of them. He wanted one to get back to Nazarione and tell the Mafia boss exactly what happened at the little track and how two crews and his best hit man were wasted.

“Okay, you have one chance. The three of you run for it. Get out the far side and run for the road. One of you will make it. That’s better odds than you gave Beth.”

The three jumped from the car and raced for the road. They spread out and ran as hard as they could.

Bolan nailed the first with a 3-round burst. The second took nine shots to put down. He fired over the head of the third, who made good his escape.

When Bolan was satisfied both Mafia goons in the dirt were dead and that only he and Franconi were left alive, he checked the cars.

He backed up the destruction derby Chevy, then raced toward the flaming Cadillac. At the last second Franconi screamed and he wound the wheel to the right, grazing the crew wagon. Four times he flashed past the furiously burning Caddy. Then he stopped and checked on his reluctant passenger.

Franconi had passed out again. Bolan made sure the wires were tight, then slapped Franconi awake. The hit man screamed and groaned.