This is a story about a terrorist cell smuggling two dirty bombs into the United States from Canada. They intend on killing as many Americans as possible. The terrorists are being chased by Navy ex-SEAL John Graves and Senior Special Agent Jill Mayfield across the country following a path of death.
I hate to say it, but this could be a real situation someday soon!!
Author's Website : www.sbprabooks.com/davidlovett
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Bullets flew around the truck. Petty Officer Holgren took his shot and killed the driver instantly. The machine-gunner again fired off a volley of shots. Most went wide, since the Jeep was now slowing down and losing control. Despite this, it didn’t flip like the first one. It slowly made its way to the side of the road, and came to a stop with a very dead driver.
The machine-gunner looked back expecting to see the truck with reinforcements. But all he saw were the remains of the burning truck.
As the Jeep rolled to a stop, the machine-gunner started to take aim. But before he could pull the trigger, a round caught him in the throat, severing his head.
Holgren kept a watch out the back as the others tended to Loop. In the cab of the truck, Graves watched the battle out of the rearview mirror. When he saw the last Jeep came to a stop at the side of the road, he looked to his left, and saw Chief Dewalter holding his knee with blood gushing from a wound.
“Dewalter, you're shot!” cried Graves. “Yes, sir, that appears to be the case. I knew I couldn’t fool you, sir,” moaned Dewalter.
Graves pulled off his shirt, and wrapped it around the wound. He reached down to the floor, found a piece of metal, inserting it into the shirt, and turned it to keep pressure on the wound.
It was now after 5:00 a.m. The sky was starting to show signs of the coming dawn. They were still a half-hour from the rendezvous point at Sierra Tango. Graves kept his eyes to the sky out of the passenger window. In the back, Holgren did the same, knowing that helicopters would soon arrive. They all knew the choppers would go to the bunker first, and then start a sweep of the area, making bigger grids with each circle of their target area.
In a stroke of luck, Graves and his crew proceeded undetected. They arrived at the beach in less than 45 minutes. They scrambled off the truck. The sun was starting to rise over the distant horizon. “Get the rafts inflated ASAP!” yelled Graves. Three men went to the beach and found the homing beacons. They pulled the rafts out of the sand, and pulled the secondary CO-2 charges. The rafts quickly filled with air.
“Leave the wetsuits! Put the Chief and Loop in Raft One, Rodriguez and Holgren go with them!” He turned to Phillips, the youngest of the SEALs. “Load the dead on Two, and take it with the Ensign. NOW! The rest of you, go in Raft Three with me and the other wounded. Let’s get the hell outta here before we have company!”