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Back Black Flag
Chapters (96)
  1. Cover
  2. Berkley titles by David Ricciardi
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. CHARACTER LIST
  6. PROLOGUE
  7. ONE
  8. TWO
  9. THREE
  10. FOUR
  11. FIVE
  12. SIX
  13. SEVEN
  14. EIGHT
  15. NINE
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. TWENTY
  27. TWENTY-ONE
  28. TWENTY-TWO
  29. TWENTY-THREE
  30. TWENTY-FOUR
  31. TWENTY-FIVE
  32. TWENTY-SIX
  33. TWENTY-SEVEN
  34. TWENTY-EIGHT
  35. TWENTY-NINE
  36. THIRTY
  37. THIRTY-ONE
  38. THIRTY-TWO
  39. THIRTY-THREE
  40. THIRTY-FOUR
  41. THIRTY-FIVE
  42. THIRTY-SIX
  43. THIRTY-SEVEN
  44. THIRTY-EIGHT
  45. THIRTY-NINE
  46. FORTY
  47. FORTY-ONE
  48. FORTY-TWO
  49. FORTY-THREE
  50. FORTY-FOUR
  51. FORTY-FIVE
  52. FORTY-SIX
  53. FORTY-SEVEN
  54. FORTY-EIGHT
  55. FORTY-NINE
  56. FIFTY
  57. FIFTY-ONE
  58. FIFTY-TWO
  59. FIFTY-THREE
  60. FIFTY-FOUR
  61. FIFTY-FIVE
  62. FIFTY-SIX
  63. FIFTY-SEVEN
  64. FIFTY-EIGHT
  65. FIFTY-NINE
  66. SIXTY
  67. SIXTY-ONE
  68. SIXTY-TWO
  69. SIXTY-THREE
  70. SIXTY-FOUR
  71. SIXTY-FIVE
  72. SIXTY-SIX
  73. SIXTY-SEVEN
  74. SIXTY-EIGHT
  75. SIXTY-NINE
  76. SEVENTY
  77. SEVENTY-ONE
  78. SEVENTY-TWO
  79. SEVENTY-THREE
  80. SEVENTY-FOUR
  81. SEVENTY-FIVE
  82. SEVENTY-SIX
  83. SEVENTY-SEVEN
  84. SEVENTY-EIGHT
  85. SEVENTY-NINE
  86. EIGHTY
  87. EIGHTY-ONE
  88. EIGHTY-TWO
  89. EIGHTY-THREE
  90. EIGHTY-FOUR
  91. EIGHTY-FIVE
  92. EIGHTY-SIX
  93. EIGHTY-SEVEN
  94. Children of Fallen Patriots Foundation
  95. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  96. What’s next onyour reading list?

Jake drove until sunset before turning around and returning to a desolate plain two miles from the village. He doused his headlights, eased the pickup off the road, and parked it under an acacia tree. The wind howled through the tall grasses as Jake stepped into the darkness. Distant peals of thunder and an occasional animal call were the only other sounds. There wasn’t another man-made object in sight.

A drop of rain splattered against his face.

It was time.

He topped off the truck’s fuel tank with a pair of twenty-liter gas cans he’d brought from Mogadishu and started unpacking his gear. Ten minutes after he’d started, there was only one thing left to unload.

He leaned a wooden plank against the pickup’s liftgate and rolled a 450cc dirt bike down from the bed. He’d camouflaged the motorcycle with a few cans of matte tan and green spray paint, using the overhead images taken a few weeks ago as his guide. He tossed a camouflage net over the truck and gave the starter a swift kick. The two-stroke motor came to life. Jake shouldered his pack, flipped on his night vision goggles, and set off for camp, stopping frequently to look and listen as he followed a series of game trails toward the river. While the trails were preferable to hacking through thickets of thorn bushes and stands of sharp grasses with a machete, the fact that the trails been made by large animals did not escape him. In addition to several species of antelope, Cape buffalo, and cheetahs, crocodiles and the occasional prides of lions also roamed the area.

He passed the skeleton of what he guessed was a zebra, with flies buzzing through its empty eye sockets, and rode south along the grassy riverbank for half a mile until the trail disappeared into the muddy river. It was the kind of place where a lion or a crocodile might lie in wait for animals looking for a drink in the cooler temperatures that followed sunset, but Jake had to dump the bike and cross the river, and he soon accepted that he would be both predator and prey for the duration of the mission.

He shut off the bike and hid it in the tall grass, marking the location on the GPS receiver on his wrist. He would infiltrate the rest of the way on foot.