Bolan clutched the grenade in his right hand.

Walking nonchalantly toward the group of gunners at the front of the building, he kept his head down, shooting quick glances to his right and to his left as he passed each room.

As he reached the halfway point, one of the terrorists looked up and shouted something in Arabic. His comrades dived for their AK-47s.

The Executioner released the grenade’s safety lever and began his count. With two seconds to go, he cocked his arm and threw the bomb, which sailed down the hallway as he ducked into one of the archways. A flash of light, then the deafening explosion a second later burst by him. He raised his rifle and slid around the corner, sending a series of short bursts into the men strewed about the room.

Satisfied that all were down, Bolan keyed his mic. “Jack, eight friendlies in the basement, with unknown number of hostiles. Back my play.”