Chapters (96)
- Cover
- Berkley titles by David Ricciardi
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- CHARACTER LIST
- PROLOGUE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- EIGHTY-FOUR
- EIGHTY-FIVE
- EIGHTY-SIX
- EIGHTY-SEVEN
- Children of Fallen Patriots Foundation
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
Jake pretended to browse the stalls while he waited for the warlord. Clap and half the team were positioned across the small square, about a hundred feet away, with compact submachine guns hidden inside their loose shirts and their vehicle parked behind a nearby shop. The rest of the team was parked a block away and shadowing Jake in a loose formation. The dense crowd complicated everything.
Jake passed a stall selling canvas bags and approached a row of shops selling fabrics. He spoke into the microphone hidden in his shirt collar as Yaxaas emerged from one of the shops, surrounded by half a dozen armed men.
“Look alive, ladies,” said Jake.
“Eyes on target,” Clap responded.
The other Ground Branch operatives checked in as well, but direct lines of sight to the warlord were broken up by the throngs of people, and Yaxaas’s own security would make the job more challenging.
“You were supposed to sink the ship and its cargo,” said Jake.
“Two of my men died and four more were injured. Consider it compensation.”
“Those weren’t the terms of our deal.”
“Deal?” Yaxaas scoffed. “We had no deal. There is give-and-take in a deal. You have given me nothing, so I have taken my due.”
“I didn’t realize you were so desperate for a few rifles and RPGs,” said Jake.
“Desperate? No,” said Yaxaas, “but what I found on that ship is going to change Somalia forever.”
It was the confirmation Jake had been after. The warlord wasn’t talking about rifles and RPGs. He’d found the bioweapon from Iran.
“Go home, American, and don’t worry about Somalia. It’s none of your business.”
“We’ll be in touch,” Jake said.
It was the code phrase for the Ground Branch team to move in.
Just as Clap and the others emerged from the shadows, the pregnant woman wailed and fell to the ground, clutching her stomach. Clap was a warrior, but he was also a husband, a son, and a father. His inherent compassion caused him to reach for her.
But the instant she looked up and met his eyes, he knew he’d made a terrible mistake.
FIFTY-SEVEN
THE WOMAN TREMBLED as she raised her hijab.
She wasn’t pregnant.
The only thing she was carrying was an explosive belt, and detonating it in the crowded market would kill half the Ground Branch team and at least twenty civilians.
“Abort, abort,” Clap said into the radio. “Suicide bomber, contact range.”
The frightened woman looked as if she had been forced to be an unwilling accomplice, but the presence of the bomb had neutralized the Ground Branch team and dashed any hope they’d had of capturing Yaxaas.
Clap and his men would be lucky to escape with their lives.
“I’ve got a visual on the actuator,” Jake said over the comms net.
Yaxaas was holding a cheap mobile phone. He smiled as his thumb hovered over the send button.