Christine Feehan: Street Game

The eighth book in the GhostWalker series, 2010

For Mary Scriven,

a woman who brings joyinto my life each time I see her.

Always keep your childlike joy of living.

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As with any book, many people helped to get it right. First and foremost, I have to thank Master Sergeant Retired Lloyd Stottsberry, a man who has dedicated his life to the service of his country. He would probably shoot me for calling him heroic, so I won’t, but you get the picture. His help was invaluable. Any mistakes are entirely mine.

Many thanks to Brian Feehan, who has that mathematical and fiendish mind and always answers the call for murder-and-mayhem discussions. Domini, you know I’d never get a book out without you, and of course Kathi Firzlaff, who catches all the little things for me. Mason, thank you for the tips on skateboarding.

And of course the book would not be complete without a special thanks to Dr. Christopher Tong, coeditor of the “state of the art” series Artificial Intelligence inEngineering Design (volumes I, II, and III). He is currently developing The World Meeting Place, a Web 3.0 AI-based site aimed at enabling the world’s people to collaborate on solving the world’s problems. He has been a manager, consultant, teacher, and researcher at many well-known institutions including Rutgers, MIT, the IBM Thomas J. Watson Research Center, the Xerox Palo Alto Research Center, and Siemens Research. He lent me his assistance in learning how artificial intelligence works, and also spent many hours figuring out an AI encryption program. His help on this book was absolutely invaluable to me.

The GhostWalker Symbol Details

SIGNIFIESshadow

SIGNIFIESprotection against evil forces

SIGNIFIESthe Greek letter psi, which is used by parapsychology researchers to signify ESP or other psychic abilities

SIGNIFIESqualities of a knight – loyalty, generosity, courage, and honor

SIGNIFIESshadow knights who protect against evil forces using psychic powers, courage, and honor

The GhostWalker Creed

Black night. No moon, no stars. Just the way he liked it. Master Gunnery Sergeant Mack McKinley crouched in the alley, close to the tall, dirty building, allowing his senses to become tuned to the familiar sounds. A cat raked through a garbage can, a drunk moaned and shivered in the cold. Waves pounded the beach and sloshed against the pier just behind the building. Three stories up, lights went out, leaving the long row of windows like giant, gaping black mouths. McKinley smiled at the image, smiled up at the windows. His smile was not pleasant.

This was the all-important tip. Tracking the explosives through Lebanon, Beirut, the South American freighter. And then to San Francisco. Always one step behind. He had moved fast to check out the information, praying it was correct. They had less than twenty-four hours to find the guns and the five-man unit of Doomsday. He sneered at the name of the terrorist unit, but he had to give them kudos for scaring the crap out of every country they had visited. They left behind wreckage and carnage and death. More-they left behind fear.

Urban warfare was an art any way one looked at it. His team had knowledge of the streets, were the best there was, but it was dangerous work, and required a cool head. Too many civilians, too many potential hostages, too damn many things to go wrong. But his men were good at it, more than good-he counted them among the best, and Sergeant Major Theodore Griffen wanted Doomsday taken out. And when the sergeant major gave an order, it was carried out immediately and to the letter. The warehouse was wired. He knew it, could feel it. But something… His men were in position, waiting for him. As always, First Sergeant Kane Cannon was at his back. They’d started on the streets together, two kids trying to stay alive, eventually pulling in six other boys and two girls, all with different abilities to make up their ragtag family.

From the streets Kane and Mack and one of the girls-Mack didn’t want to think about her-had gone on to college. The others had gone into the Marine Corps. All had a gift for languages as well as many other things, such as what he was doing now. They were recruited right out of school and trained as operatives until the psychic testing. That had been a huge mistake, and all of his family had followed him-as they always did.

Force Recon-Special Forces. Psychic testing where they’d all come back together, just like on the street. More specialized training. SEAL training. Urban war games. Even more specialized training until they were pretty much killing machines. They had stuck together and knew one another’s every move. They trusted one another and no one else, not in the business they were in. Well… with the exception of the new kid, but that was a whole other story. It was no good thinking about that right now, not when he was surrounded with the ones he loved, leading them into a situation that was explosive at the very least.