Enemies Within. Don Pendleton

was to find out if one young man bent on making a new life for himself had been in contact with his elder brother. And what—if anything—had passed between them when they’d spoken, and whether Tyron had been crass enough to drag the kid into his mess.

      Bolan hoped not, but as he’d learned to his private sorrow, families were complicated, nursing secrets rarely spoken to outsiders, if at all. He would reach out, learn what Jesse Moseley had to say, if anything, and hope for any clue that put him on the AWOL Rangers’ trail.

      Failing that, he’d have to play the rest of it by ear.

      Nothing unique in that approach for Bolan, since he’d struck out on his own against the Mafia so long ago, and carried on from there into a world gone mad with terror, tyrants and the endless clash of hostile creeds. He soldiered on, because that’s what a soldier did, until the Universe allowed no choice but to lay down his or her weapons and surrender in the end.

      He and Grimaldi had a job to do, and there could be no turning back.