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“Best predictor of future performance is past performance. And I’ve seen your past performance.”
I’m not the killer man. I’m the killer man’s son. But I do the killing until the killer man comes.”
the meeting: a clandestine laser microphone. We had
When someone speaks in a room, the noise is transmitted throughout, and when it hits a window, the window vibrates ever so slightly.
tree, staring
Hezbollah was completely controlled, trained, and funded by Iran,
thing. Pike was a supernatural predator, and he would move heaven and earth to save Aaron. In between him and that goal was a planned coup of an entire country orchestrated by a highly trained mercenary force. Kurt almost felt sorry for them.
“Yeah, well, not serious enough to prevent you from landing on your feet. You must be a SEAL, right? Only they could do that in this
situation.” An Air Force Special Operations member, Veep looked at me, then Knuckles, unsure of what to say without aggravating either of us. Knuckles said, “There will come a time, Mr. Badass, when you’ll regret the disparagement.” I said, “Don’t make it now. You know, because of the winds.”
Basically, some smart guy had looked at JDAM GPS-guided munitions and said, “If we can drop a bomb with that precision, why can’t we do the same thing with a parachute?”
Knuckles let the computer do the work as the load came to earth, looking at his screen, then back in the air. He did that repeatedly, until the bundle was about five hundred feet above the ground. He started working his handset, pushing the parachute to fly slower than it wanted, given the winds at altitude. He brought the bundle over the drop zone, and it sank into the lull of the protection from the mountains, causing the parachute to surge forward at full thrust, headed to the rock wall. Knuckles worked his controller, and the parachute sank to the ground like a child dropping a hanky off a
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Inside was a veritable Jason Bourne wet dream: six Motoped Survival cycles, a complete communications package, enough cases of MREs to live for a week, high-tech beacons and other surveillance kit, and weapons. Blessed weapons.
Glock 23 pistol and saw immediately it wasn’t Taskforce. With a custom stippled grip, a Trijicon RMR holosight, and a flat-black widened mag well,
Missions like this were the one thing that made me feel alive, testing the boundaries of my skill. And the kit was pretty damn cool
like dangling bacon in front of a Rottweiler.
saying, “I haven’t done anything this stupid since high school.”
They stopped at the tailgate, and we held our breath. Then one of them grabbed the tarp, flinging it back. Knuckles rose like a jack-in-the-box from hell, drilling the first one in the head, then rotating to the second. The man got off one wild round, and Knuckles put him down.
comatose for close to sixteen hours. When I’d awoken and padded down to our hotel TOC, Blaine was talking to Kurt, and Kurt was in a
