Diallo’s soldiers mounted a desperate assault

They came on like a banzai charge of old, shouting and with weapons a-blazing. Mansaré’s people were fighting for their lives at odds of three to one.

Bolan hurled frag grenades against the charging line. The cops blasted through the ranks, but they were taking hits, too. The men who’d stretched prone on the ground to fire their autorifles whittled down the other side, until silence finally reigned.

One of the “dead” men stirred behind Mansaré, rising on his elbows to extend a pistol. The shot from Bolan’s FAL drilled into the back-shooter’s skull, drawing all eyes to the soldier’s position.

The Executioner rose slowly. “We need to talk.”