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
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With the karambit on his vest and a suppressed .45-caliber H&K pistol in a drop-leg holster, he ditched the kudu hide and scaled the fence using the same knotted line he’d used before. From atop the fence he could see that most of Yaxaas’s men were working under the lights in the center of camp, rinsing the warlord’s SUV and the delivery van with buckets of water. The building holding Pickens was twenty yards away, so close that Jake could almost touch it.
He dropped into camp, drew the pistol, and heard a strange noise behind him.
At first he thought it was thunder, once again echoing through the hills, but the skies were clear and the sound was too steady and too rhythmic to be thunder. An uneasy feeling overtook him as it grew louder and louder until it was deafening. Jake pressed himself to the ground and looked up, just in time to see a helicopter roar by a hundred feet overhead.
SEVENTY-EIGHT
JAKE SWITCHED ON his night vision goggles as the helicopter skimmed the nearby hilltops. It was the MD-520 he’d seen at Mogadishu airport, but with benches mounted to its sides. Strapped onto the benches were men with helmets, goggles, and sniper rifles.
The helo flew a wide orbit around the valley while the snipers scanned the ground below. Jake realized that it was the same helicopter Yaxaas used to seize the tankers, and the men on the benches were the highly trained ex-military marksmen that he’d heard about.
Jake crawled back to the wall as more of the warlord’s men poured into the courtyard.
A gunshot echoed through the hills as the helicopter flew another loop around the valley. One of the snipers had fired his weapon. Out of the corner of his eye, Jake noticed one of the goats tumble through the air and land on its side, dead.
It was a spectacular shot—from a moving aircraft, against a small target, at night, and at least fifty of Yaxaas’s militiamen surrounded the helicopter as it landed in the center of camp. A few of the men fired their rifles into the air once the helo was on the ground.
Jake wouldn’t be rescuing Pickens tonight.
He’d be lucky to make it out alive.
He looked around carefully, making a detailed mental map of the camp, and climbed over the wall before dropping down outside. Jake tied the kudu hide on his back and crawled back across the kill zone toward the hills. He moved slowly—painfully so for a man on whom so much depended—until he was back at his original observation post.
Jake put the rifle to his shoulder and scanned the camp. Dozens of armed men were circulating inside the walls. The helicopter crew was folding its rotors while another group of men finished rinsing the warlord’s car and the delivery van.
The delivery van . . .