BooksBarbecue
Back Ghost Recon Save as PDF
Chapters (39)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Acknowledgements
  4. Epigraph
  5. ONE
  6. TWO
  7. THREE
  8. FOUR
  9. FIVE
  10. SIX
  11. SEVEN
  12. EIGHT
  13. NINE
  14. TEN
  15. ELEVEN
  16. TWELVE
  17. THIRTEEN
  18. FOURTEEN
  19. FIFTEEN
  20. SIXTEEN
  21. SEVENTEEN
  22. EIGHTEEN
  23. NINETEEN
  24. TWENTY
  25. TWENTY-ONE
  26. TWENTY-TWO
  27. TWENTY-THREE
  28. TWENTY-FOUR
  29. TWENTY-FIVE
  30. TWENTY-SIX
  31. TWENTY-SEVEN
  32. TWENTY-EIGHT
  33. TWENTY-NINE
  34. THIRTY
  35. THIRTY-ONE
  36. THIRTY-TWO
  37. THIRTY-THREE
  38. THIRTY-FOUR
  39. THIRTY-FIVE

But he'd never forgotten Fang's cowardice, or Captain Foyte impaled on those punji stakes, or Warrant Officer Alvarado clutching that dart in his neck, or poor Carlos bleeding out and telling him to go back for Billy. Mitchell would never forget that row of bodies lying on the field.

Twelve men had entered the jungle on Basilan Island, and only three had come out, thanks, in part, to Fang Zhi.

The scar on Mitchell's chest burned anew.

And now he was back on that field, squaring off with Fang, only this time Fang had no chance to draw his sword. This time, Mitchell had a pistol jammed into Fang's forehead, and when he squeezed the trigger, all he heard was Beasley crying in his earpiece, "Captain, we have to move--now!"

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SIX

HAKKA CASTLE
XIAMEN, CHINA
APRIL 2012

With a gasp, Mitchell was back, hot-wired to the moment, his senses flooded with input.

"Ghost Lead, this is Bravo Lead," Beasley called again. "Don't forget about us, Captain! I need that order!"

As chills raced up Mitchell's spine, he checked the downlink channel now showing Beasley's camera, zoomed in, and enhanced. Bravo Team's targets were seeking cover.

Instincts honed by years of combat experience took over. Mitchell began processing information and issuing orders with cool, calm efficiency:

"Bravo Team, attack."

"Roger that," Beasley answered in a stage whisper. "Moving up to attack."

"Diaz, snipers, then main gate, fire now."

"Roger that, Captain. Sighting my first target."

"Smith? Police up the drone, then fall in behind us. Ramirez? Nolan? Move out!"

Mitchell burst from cover, and Ramirez was already a few steps ahead of him and took point, his MK14 EBR rifle with attached silencer held at the ready as they raced along the road, then started down toward the castle, picking their way through streams of rainwater washing down the mountain.

Nolan was hard on Mitchell's heels, carrying his P90 SD Belgian-designed submachine gun with suppressor because, as many medics argued, the best form of preventative medicine was superior firepower.

"Got the drone," Smith reported, then hustled up behind them with a Modular Rifle--Caseless (MR-C). The MR-C fired caseless ammo at 900 rounds per minute, and while the regular army did not field the rifle, the Ghosts endorsed it wholeheartedly.

They had guns, all right. Lots of them.

But only four shots really mattered: one in the head of each Spring Tiger.

Or was it five shots?

Mitchell considered shouting to the others, The guy with cane? He's mine!

However, he could not reveal his personal bias and immediately undermine his command. The mission and his people came first. He knew that. They knew that. If Fang were killed in the crossfire, then so be it.