Hemmed in by killers, the Executioner fertilizes the Garden State with blood Mack Bolan bombs down the Jersey Turnpike in a stolen Mustang, a bullet lodged in his ribs and blood seeping down his leg. A dragnet is closing in on the Executioner, whose one-man war against the Mafia has crippled the international crime syndicate but has not yet destroyed it. To evade the roadblocks, he turns onto a lonely two-lane highway when he sees a car full of killers coming up behind him. Bolan only has three bullets, so he lures the hit men into a car wreck, killing them but sacrificing the Mustang. On foot, he limps into the Jersey night. This is the most corrupt state in the union-the place where mob bosses come to retire in tacky little towns whose police are proud to be on the Mafia payroll. The Executioner is alone, unarmed, and hunted by every killer in the state. But that's his comfort zone.