Lodestone Quotes

“He could still remember the feeling, sitting in another hide not fifty meters away, his eyes fixed on the Bedouins through the optic of his HK416. Whispering “Steady, steady” through clenched teeth as he willed the Egyptians to keep their nerve.
And then all hell had broken loose, automatic weapons fire rippling out across the desert. Cutting down the shepherds—along with more than a few of their sheep.
Alerting everyone within miles of their presence.
They’d managed to regroup and storm the compound within the hour, but by that time anyone who might have once been there was already gone. Deserted”
― Stephen England, Lodestone

“It was an impossible stand-off, so close together there in the darkness, barely ten feet separating them. No way for either of them to miss, Harry thought, staring through the sights of his 1911 at Massoud. The man had aged since the photo in his CIA “jacket”, far beyond his years”
― Stephen England, Lodestone

“The third man was reacting now, too late—his rifle coming up even as two more fighters came around the corner of the hallway.
And then he heard the rattle of Nick’s AK from behind him—saw the man go down, the acrid, heady smell of burning gunpowder filling his nostrils as the kill zone emptied of targets.”
― Stephen England, Lodestone

“Good reason. The trigger broke under his finger, recoil pummeling Harry’s shoulder as the thunder of a .308 reverberated through the hallway.
He saw the man’s head snap back from the impact of the round, but he was already traversing to the next target, shooting the second militant twice in the chest. Iron sights now”
― Stephen England, Lodestone

“Not their time, not now—the death angel passing over once more. Close enough to feel the air rush beneath its wings. Time to move. He slung the FN-FAL over his back, tucking the suppressed 1911 under his jacket as he rose from behind the vehicle. “Back my play.”
― Stephen England, Lodestone

“An FN-FAL battle rifle was strapped to his leg with paracord, its weight reminding him of their purpose. The reason for this jump.
Forty minutes till landing. Another twenty, maybe twenty-five till they were on the target.
Might as well enjoy the ride”
― Stephen England, Lodestone

“It was too late to think about that. No time—no time for anything but action as the gate swung back. As Crawford entered behind him.
The Colt came out in his hand, a long black shape in the night. He saw his target’s eyes widen, the suppressor almost touching the man’s chest as he pulled the trigger. Once, twice—the .45-caliber hollow-point slugs smashing through bone, body tissue, deforming and expanding outward as they traveled through the body.
The young man staggered, but didn’t fall—staring down at the holes in his chest as if it belonged to someone else. Disbelief filling his features.
Harry could hear the slide of Crawford’s Sig-Sauer cycling behind him, a deadly cadence. The strangled cry as the older jihadist went down.
Taking care of business.
He didn’t hesitate, raising the pistol to put a third shot between his target’s eyes, the head snapping back from the impact of the round. No remorse.
“Clear.”
He glanced back to see Crawford standing over the body of the older man, his pistol aimed down—his finger tightening around the trigger. There was a loud cough, and then the SAS sergeant looked up.
“Clear.”
Harry keyed his mike, glancing upward toward the building where Hale was providing overwatch. “Bring the Range Rover around and keep it running. We’re going in.”
― Stephen England, Lodestone