Blaze of Glory: A Novel
Jeff Struecker, Alton Gansky
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
United States Sgt. Major Eric Moyer and his Special Operations unit have been called in to track down a wealthy Egyptian terrorist who is believed to have sordid ties to a sudden increase in female suicide bombers. Chasing El-Sayyed through Italy, they soon gain interconnected details about a Mexican drug lord who is plotting to kill the U.S. and Mexican presidents.
Now Moyer and his team must stop not one, but two madmen on separate continents. And with a new member of the unit hiding his struggle with post-traumatic stress disorder, a third problem begins to boil.
“East side clear.” Moyer looked at Zinsser. “Time to go.” Zinsser’s heart kicked into fifth gear. “Ready when you are, Boss.” “On my mark,” Moyer said into his radio, then started for the front of the house. Zinsser followed with De Luca in his wake. Passive surveillance was about to turn into forced entry. They had planned the next step hours before they arrived, and Zinsser had rehearsed every detail in his mind more times than he could count. The south side of the building had a large deck,
did—for two hours, which is an hour more than I got the night before.” “Three hours in two nights? That is not good for the health. Try a glass of wine.” “I’d need the whole bottle.” Aldo set his reading glasses on the desk and rubbed his eyes. He looked up and saw the same weary expression on Lorenzo’s face he saw in his own mirror. “Everyone has an agenda and better idea how to do things. Unfortunately the French security team wants precedence over the British, who feel more entitled than
attempt at assassination is doomed to failure. The Christian shrines in Rome make more sense. Although covered with security, they are more approachable targets.” Moyer’s jaw tightened. “Are you suggesting we go home?” “Of course not, just voicing my view,” Mitchell said. “We have a van. Please follow me.” “Where are we going?” Rich asked. “To prove our point.” THE LARGE FORD VAN moved through the streets of Naples, fighting airport traffic and the early morning rush hour. The sun had cleared
in-country intel man.” The president’s expression saddened. “When I was first made aware of your mission, I failed to make the connection.” He paused for a moment. “You lost a man last year? In Venezuela?” “Yes, sir. Martin Caraway. He was a good soldier.” “You did good work down there and got no credit for it.” “We were just doing our duty. We are proud to serve.” Huffington nodded. “It’s men like you that make me proud to be commander in chief.” “Thank you, sir.” “Fill me in on your
The army lieutenant who retrieved her from her apartment offered no information. Tess had tested the waters with a few probing questions, but if the man knew anything—which she doubted—he wasn’t talking. All she could do was wait. The craft touched down fewer than two hours later, and Tess exited to find another army lieutenant waiting by a car. He smiled, opened the door for her, waited until she was seated in the back, then closed the door. A few minutes later she passed through the gates to