Power and Empire (Jack Ryan Universe, #24)

by Marc Cameron

Deng Wenyuan, secretary of the Central Committee for Discipline Inspection,

Direct descendant of Deng Xiaoping by any chance?

“Don’t beat yourself up because you’re not multilingual, ’mano. You’re a damned savant when it comes to analysis.”

“Thanks for that,” Ryan said. “But I’ve decided I’m going to start working on my Russian.”

Ochin karasho, tovarish, Ochin kulturniy!

Dom spoke Italian, which allowed him to grab the gist of Spanish conversations going on around him.

Adara spoke passable Spanish as well, but while females were not unheard of as patrons of strip clubs, her blond hair and athletic build were sure to draw unwanted attention from the very people they were there to watch.

Es la verdad, huera rubia.

“Here we go,” Ryan mumbled as they approached the door. “You’re too young to be tired of looking at naked girls,” Chavez said. “Not naked girls per se,” Ryan said. “Just the kind that hang out in places like this.”

These two women and one burly man—all parents themselves—spent much of their workday posing as children, engaged in online conversation with some of the sickest minds on the planet. It was a target-rich environment—with the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children estimating 75,000 would-be traders in child pornography online at any given time.

Good to see there are still some decent human beings left in the Bureau.

The CAC Task Force Commander, FBI Special Agent Kelsey Callahan, didn’t believe in separate offices. If her team was going to wade through the river of shit that the perverts they hunted caused, they should do it together as a unified group.

Unit integrity! And was she purposely named for Inspector “Dirty Harry” Callahan?

No straitlaced Betty Bureau Blue Suit, Special Agent Callahan wore a Neiman Marcus silk blouse in subtle pink and stonewashed jeans over hips that she wished were a smidge smaller, but that were still small enough so as to make the .40-caliber Glock 23 in the holster on her belt look huge.

She’d dislocated her own shoulder but ruptured the instructor’s testicle.

Ouchie!!

three special agents from Immigration and Customs Enforcement,

But all the CAC Task Force members had so much experience rescuing kids that they’d accumulated a deep and abiding hatred for the men and women they hunted. It was controlled hatred, hatred that Callahan made sure they kept within the bounds of the law, but it was hatred nonetheless.

A new grandfather and a deacon in the Waxahachie First Baptist Church, he was the reason Callahan didn’t curse as much as she would have liked to.

Oh great, another stuck-up holier-than-thou Bible-banging puritan.

Armstrong typed POS—parent over shoulder—and logged out.

In fact, calling him wormy was a disservice to actual worms.

He knew exactly what Adara meant. Men and women who’d spent long careers carrying large and heavy firearms on their belts often tended to walk holding their arms slightly away from their bodies—even when they transitioned to a smaller, more concealable weapon for different duty. It took practice and concentration to overcome the effect of being a beat cop or even a suit-wearing detective. Simply wearing plain clothes did not make one covert.

button-hooked through the double doors two at a time, moving quickly as they came in to make room for the person behind them. They hadn’t knocked or announced, so they’d seen no reason to cover the back door.

“You’re in an awfully big hurry to go to jail,” Callahan said. “Having sex with a minor is a pretty big deal here in Texas, Ed. Even the guys on the inside don’t take kindly to child rapists.”

“. . . Seriously,” he said. “You have to promise to keep me safe.” “I can do that,” Agent Callahan said. “But why should I?” Chavez grimaced and mouthed, “Heartless. I like her.”

Officially on special “unspecified duty” away from his assigned field office, Dominic Caruso maintained his commission as a special agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This often made him the only member of The Campus who could legally carry a weapon in all fifty states and U.S. territories—not that any of them let a little thing like that stop them from packing.

Dilly-dilly!

Gusano had once eaten a worm on a bet, earning his name—and Moco thought him just about as smart as one of the slimy creatures.

Davao City, Philippines, was familiar to security experts and foreign policy wonks because of its crime—and the mayor’s brutal crackdown to curb it. Attention

A thinly veiled reference to Duterte?

His mentor in the business warned him that he’d grown up watching too much James Bond—but Coronet held firm to the notion that while one could be underdressed, it rarely hurt to dress well.

Cheers, mate.

Apart from the Mandarin of his native Taiwan, Coronet spoke Cantonese, English, and Malay. He did not, however, speak Tagalog,

Putangina!

A quick scan of the area revealed the awful odor—as if someone had vomited up a dinner of onions and turpentine—was coming from the pile of spiky, melon-sized durian in the back of the HiLux.

NFC

Coronet loved the tradecraft even more than he loved the exotic travel.

CENTRAL CASTING: Steve Park as Coronet

Unlike James Bond, he shied away from rich food and too much booze.

C’mon dude, now you’re missing out!

Coronet wasn’t particularly enamored of communist China. He could just as easily have been spying for his native Taiwan or even the United States. As a matter of fact, the ChiComs paid shit.

Even with China’s burgeoning middle class and new social freedoms, it was still rife with the problems of a communist state.

Well that’s an understatement!

Institute of Cadre Management—the Ministry of State Security’s spy school.

no matter how handsome he was, attractive women did not approach strangers in bars and discuss politics, especially in China.

The Near Field Communication tag made for the perfect dead drop. Working on the same principle as a touch key for a hotel room or a subway pass, the inconspicuous NFC tags contained nothing but a simple set of GPS coordinates,

OSS commandos employed brass knuckles to stun opponents in advance of a dagger attack during World War Two.

Liberty Crossing, home of the director of national intelligence and the National Counterterrorism Center.

Gears in D.C. turned slowly, especially after lunch on a Friday,

It was an honor, but Miller only wished she’d taken the time to change into something that made her look a little less like Paul Bunyan’s Mini-Me.

Australia’s Office of National Assessments was often considered a combination of the ODNI and the Department of State’s Bureau of Intelligence and Research.

Unlike the dark concrete-and-steel rooms depicted by Hollywood, the interrogation room at the Dallas federal building was carpeted and well lit.

“Matarife means ‘slaughterer.’”

They did not, however, know that he wore a wire neck loop and microphone connected to the small radio

Shouldn’t that be “didn’t know…?”

FBI agents were trained to be highly observant, and wearing an obvious wire into the lion’s den was sure to earn him a case of the third degree from the Old Man—the

Huh?? Some more transcription omissions there?

She was attractive, in an I’ll-kick-your-ass sort of way.

Caruso sure as hell better stall.” Adara defended her boyfriend. “Dom will do what he can,” she said.

Wow, I’d totally forgotten those two were an item!

If John Clark threw him in a ditch and pointed a gun at him, Ryan was pretty sure he’d lose control of his bladder, too.

completely addicted to the excesses of their jobs and the frequent massive adrenaline spikes. He’d turned them into junkies.

dried milkfish,

Mmm, Bangus.

The place smelled like farts and Lysol,

A husky DSO with a blond porn-star mustache glanced up.

The inmates needed to see they weren’t the only ones who could do pull-ups.