Malik's hooves clattered on the cobblestones under the archway. The courtyard erupted into a frenzy behind them.

"Chase them!" yelled the rebel sheikh. The mercs, thinking faster than Zayoud's men, raced for the vehicles.

Bolan checked the great horse lightly, but the surefooted stallion took the tight L-turn in stride. Kevin patted his neck, urging him faster down the sloping track.

The sentries in the tower above the camp decided to risk firing into the ground ahead of the galloping Malik in an attempt to scare the beast into throwing his riders.

They got off one ragged volley before the bomb beneath the stairs exploded. The upper chamber blew apart.

Chunks of granite were hurled through the roof. A cloud of smoke and dust shot into the air. And the topmost floor collapsed into the gaping hole where the steps had been — men, guns, splintered woodwork and shattered stones all went rattling down into the ruined tower.

Bolan was still uncertain whether Kevin was with him now by choice or simply because the abruptly shifting circumstances had left him no option. Kevin was probably too confused to know his own mind. All that mattered was that at this moment he had a tight hold on the youngster as they charged down the track.

The booming explosion within the tower was still ringing in their ears. Bits and pieces of brickwork rained down onto the trail behind them. The falling debris included the rag-doll body of one of the sentries.

Billy Joe Hooker, mad at having accepted the socalled Scarr at face value, was racing forward in the lead Jeep. When the lookout's body flopped on the roadway, the merc bumped right over top of it.

Bolan twisted to snatch a quick look back. They were being chased by slightly more overwhelming odds than he'd counted on — every truck, Jeep and even the armored cars were roaring through the main gates.

Stinging clouds of grit and gravel were thrown in the air by the wild group in pursuit of the magnificent steed.

A bullet zipped narrowly past Bolan's head. Malik was only so much horse meat to the angry mercs. They had no real idea of the prestigious bond between Sheikh Zayoud and his most highly prized stallion. They couldn't have cared less; they were in a mood to kill! The fleeing twosome had a fair lead, but this would evaporate when they stopped to transfer to the Hog. Ruark's gang would be on top of them in no time.

The horse thundered down onto the flat. It was all they could do to hang on. Bolan raced for the dip between the nearest dunes ahead. The strangely eroded rocks were less than six hundred yards beyond.

"Hold tight, Chip!" encouraged Bolan as another string of bullets spouted in the dirt.

Bill Keegan had got their range. The second burst would have struck home if the Arab next to him had not knocked the muzzle skyward, pleading for the stallion's safety. Keegan cuffed the man aside, cursing at his interference, and called for the driver to speed up. The chase vehicles had cleared the constricting ramp. The leaders were fanning out in line abreast, the drivers jockeying to see who would be first to catch up with the runaways.

The Jeep at the far left suddenly vanished in a shattering fireball, spitting out blazing tracers of burning wreckage. Three mercenaries were dead before their bodies hit the ground. An Arab was thrown clear from the back, stumbled upright on the sand and was mowed down by the truck behind.

Bolan and the boy were both spotted with flecks of sweat from the straining horse.

"Run, Malik, run!" The racing stallion found an extra ounce of effort. Kevin had become a better friend to the courageous animal than Zayoud could ever have guessed.

The skyline ahead of them unexpectedly changed configuration. The immediate horizon seemed to heave upward in the center as the ugly shadow of the Hog appeared menacingly, slewing broadside to a halt on top of the ridge.

Danica Jones leaped back from the driver's seat, waving at Bolan to ride clear of her line of fire. The M-60 opened up with a murderous clatter, spewing out an arc of death in small doses across the sands.

Bolan smiled, elated by her initiative. He had turned Malik to the left and was running flat out into a trough behind the nearest transverse dunes.

Danny's opening salvo caught Hooker's Jeep in the engine. The vehicle rocketed up the shoulder of a dune, seeming to suspend momentarily in midair before it slewed into the path of an oncoming Saracen. The armored car was knocked sideways by the blast of the disintegrating wreck.

The last few seconds ticked away on the preset timers in the ammo shed. The troopers remaining in the yard were caught unaware when the storage dump exploded with crushing force. Mines, grenades, mortars and ammunition touched off one another in an almost instantaneous chain reaction. The whole wall behind the shack cracked from top to bottom. The sentries, who thought themselves lucky to have a grandstand view of the wild chase, were tossed aside like broken toys by the concussive shock wave. The booming, grinding, shrieking thunderclap was deafening. In that last millisecond more than one man thought it was the end of the world.

Zayoud's driver skidded to a halt below the approach ramp. The sheikh stared in a daze at the dirty mushroom cloud roiling upward, a death's head shadow rearing over the tumbling battlements. The mercs were not sure what was happening. The castle was exploding behind them. A wildcat had pinned them down with machine-gun fire.

And the horse had bolted.

Danny fired another long burst to keep their heads down, jumped back behind the wheel and stamped on the accelerator. She wheeled around off the ridge and chased after Bolan. They were crossing a hard pan of barren rock. Bolan glanced back and saw the Hog gaining on the outside. He made no move to check the reins as Danny drew alongside.

"You're going to have to jump, Chip!" The youngster stretched out his arm, instinctively grabbing for the corner of the roll bar, and then — before he could think twice — Bolan heaved him aboard the Hog.

Keegan had collected his wits a lot quicker than his colleagues. "Don't let that bastard escape!" Billy Joe Hooker, bruised and battered by his forcible ejection from the Jeep, limped over to Ruark's vehicle and jumped aboard as the driver took off.

Zayoud was shouting for his own men to follow their lead.

Danny had snatched hold of Kevin's belt to steady the boy as lie completed the precarious leap from the galloping horse to the speeding Jeep. She got both hands back on the wheel a fraction before they hit the first bumps of rutted sand.

Bolan leaned sideways and threw himself onto the rear deck of the bouncing Hog.

The Arabian stallion, feeling himself suddenly lightened, slowed to a canter, veered off to the left, heaving for breath after the exhausting run. Kevin glanced back to make sure the riderless horse was all right. One of the Arab drivers turned off to round up his master's horse. Keegan was screaming in rage at being sidetracked. The other mercs paid it no mind, they pressed on after the smoking dust trail that marked the getaway vehicle. There was nothing Kevin could do about escaping; he could not jump out at this speed. But Bolan had no way of knowing which side the boy was on now. Before Kevin could protest, Bolan had slipped the cuffs over his wrist and snapped them shut around the roll bar. The Hog was in good hands.

Bolan left the driving to Danny, swung the M-60 around and fired a devastating burst into the convoy chasing after them.

A Jeep swerved in from behind the razor-edged ridge on their flank, bearing down on them fast.

Bolan grabbed a grenade and lobbed it in the path of the pursuers. The blast lifted the Jeep onto two wheels and the driver lost control.

A truck loaded with jeering Arabs was gaining ground behind. The driver saw the Jeep start to tilt over crazily in his path. He managed to swerve as the crippled Jeep plowed along on its side, but in avoiding this danger he ran straight over a rock with such a loud crack that even Bolan could hear the impact above the sounds of the furious chase. The wheels spun on independently, wobbling as they parted ways with the shattered axle. The front end dropped and bulldozed its way deeper into the sand, which curled outward in a cresting bow wave.