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?
“It’s an imperfect world, and we’re often forced to use violence to stop violence, but I sleep well at night knowing that I’m fighting for people who can’t help themselves. It’s what we live for that defines us.”
Athena tucked her arm inside his.
“Can you do me a favor?”
Jake nodded.
“You know who’s responsible for my brother’s death, don’t you?”
He nodded again.
“Good.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “Kill him for me.”
THIRTY-FIVE
JAKE FLEW THROUGH the night and touched down in Mogadishu at daybreak. The Ground Branch team arrived a few hours later in three vehicles. The six men, all combat veterans, were independent contractors who’d been working in a CIA Counterterrorism Center team, planning and executing operations with U.S. and African military forces. They’d been in the field for several weeks and looked it, sporting shaggy hair, scruffy beards, and heavy loadout bags filled with survival gear, surveillance equipment, clothing, and weapons.
Lots of weapons.
Though Jake was also part of the Special Activities Center, he didn’t know any of the men in the CTC pursuit team or follow normal reporting channels. More accurately, Graves didn’t follow normal reporting channels. He routinely circumvented the branch chiefs underneath him and used Jake as a singleton, out on his own, working covert missions where the risk was enormous and no trace could be left behind.
Pickens set the team up in the safe house’s family room, with sleeping bags on the floor, and Jake briefed everyone on what the Agency had learned about Yaxaas’s background, his piracy business, and his other operations in Somalia.
“You men have been in-country longer than I have,” Jake said, “so you know that most of these warlords travel with militiamen who are untrained, undisciplined, and quick on the trigger. Yaxaas isn’t going to like what we’re telling him, so don’t be surprised if it goes kinetic.”
The team leader was a five-foot, seven-inch coiled spring who went by the nickname “Clap.” Jake was skilled in the martial arts, having studied jiujitsu in college and Krav Maga while at the Agency, and he immediately recognized Clap as someone who knew how to handle himself. Every step, every movement he made, was designed for maximum tactical advantage. He was leaning against a wall, with his arms folded across his chest and a baseball cap pulled down over his tight Afro.
“Frankly,” Jake said, “the warlord’s death would not be an adverse outcome.”
“Ted said you might feel that way,” Clap said as he pushed off the wall and took a step forward, “but we’re here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
The two men stared at each other for a few seconds until Jake laid a marked-up map of the city on the kitchen table.