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Back Enemy at the Gates Save as PDF
Chapters (57)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. EPILOGUE
  55. More from the Authors
  56. ABOUT THE AUTHORS
  57. Novels by Vince Flynn

The rest of the men grumbled in agreement. Grant remained silent for a long time, finally speaking at a level that wasn’t much more than a whisper.

“What I say next doesn’t ever get repeated. Does everyone understand? This goes to your grave.”

Nods all around.

“We’re going to wander around in the woods for a few days. We’ve got no choice in that. But I’m refocusing the primary objective of our mission.”

“To what?” one of them asked.

“To us surviving. And if in the process we trip over David Chism alive, then great.”

“And if we don’t?” someone asked.

“Then fuck him.”

6

NEAR FRANSCHHOEK

SOUTH AFRICA

RAPP kept to the speed limit, reacquainting himself with driving on the left as he wound through idyllic vineyards and farmland. Distant mountains were draped with clouds, but overhead the sky was a deep, unbroken blue. His window was down, and sixty-degree air was swirling around the vehicle Claudia had dropped off for him at the airport. With it came an unfamiliar sensation of peace that bordered on relief.

Unfamiliar, but not hard to understand. More and more, the United States felt like it was collapsing into some kind of internal Cold War. Views that only a few years ago would have been considered tinfoil-hat territory were now being discussed by straight-faced mainstream newscasters. Extremists on both sides of the political spectrum were flailing around breaking things with no apparent goals in mind other than to harm each other. And all the while, politicians did what they’d been doing for a thousand years—trying to figure out how to use it all to cling to power.

Being in Africa felt vastly different. Not that the entire continent wasn’t hopelessly screwed up—it most definitely was. But it wasn’t his problem. His problems were thousands of miles away. Far enough that if he didn’t squint, they just disappeared.

The road turned to dirt and began to roll. When he reached the top of the first rise, he spotted the gray roof of the home he was looking for. His home.

A ten-foot stucco wall topped with broken glass ringed the property and the trees had been cut back almost to a neighboring farmer’s vines, leaving an open perimeter with an unobstructed view. Beyond that, the scene probably hadn’t changed much in the last century or so. A heavier gate. A few subtle cameras. More beneath the surface, but probably not enough. If they were going to start spending a significant amount of time there, security upgrades would have to become a priority.