Don Pendleton: Gathering Storm

A pall of smoke rose above the fireburst, curling and swelling into a mushroom shape. The dust and debris sucked up into the superheated air began to fall back to earth. A dark cloud formed over the scene of destruction.

“Carl, what happened?” Brognola demanded.

“Listen hard, Hal,” Lyons said from the chopper. “There’s been a massive explosion near Bucklow. I mean massive. Call in all emergency services in the vicinity. Now.”

“What does it look like?”

“Like Hell landed on the county with a vengeance.”

“Carl, Gadgets is down there.”

#10 SECRET ARSENAL

#11 TARGET AMERICA

#12 BLIND EAGLE

#13 WARHEAD

#14 DEADLY AGENT

#15 BLOOD DEBT

#16 DEEP ALERT

#17 VORTEX

#18 STINGER

#19 NUCLEAR NIGHTMARE

#20 TERMS OF SURVIVAL

#21 SATAN’S THRUST

#22 SUNFLASH

#23 THE PERISHING GAME

#24 BIRD OF PREY

#25 SKYLANCE

#26 FLASHBACK

#27 ASIAN STORM

#28 BLOOD STAR

#29 EYE OF THE RUBY

#30 VIRTUAL PERIL

#31 NIGHT OF THE JAGUAR

#32 LAW OF LAST RESORT

#33 PUNITIVE MEASURES

#34 REPRISAL

#35 MESSAGE TO AMERICA

#36 STRANGLEHOLD

#37 TRIPLE STRIKE

#38 ENEMY WITHIN

#39 BREACH OF TRUST

#40 BETRAYAL

#41 SILENT INVADER

#42 EDGE OF NIGHT

#43 ZERO HOUR

#44 THIRST FOR POWER

#45 STAR VENTURE

#46 HOSTILE INSTINCT

#47 COMMAND FORCE

#48 CONFLICT IMPERATIVE

#49 DRAGON FIRE

#50 JUDGMENT IN BLOOD

#51 DOOMSDAY DIRECTIVE

#52 TACTICAL RESPONSE

#53 COUNTDOWN TO TERROR

#54 VECTOR THREE

#55 EXTREME MEASURES

#56 STATE OF AGGRESSION

#57 SKY KILLERS

#58 CONDITION HOSTILE

#59 PRELUDE TO WAR

#60 DEFENSIVE ACTION

#61 ROGUE STATE

#62 DEEP RAMPAGE

#63 FREEDOM WATCH

#64 ROOTS OF TERROR

#65 THE THIRD PROTOCOL

#66 AXIS OF CONFLICT

#67 ECHOES OF WAR

#68 OUTBREAK

#69 DAY OF DECISION

#70 RAMROD INTERCEPT

#71 TERMS OF CONTROL

#72 ROLLING THUNDER

#73 COLD OBJECTIVE

#74 THE CHAMELEON FACTOR

#75 SILENT ARSENAL

Gathering Storm

AMERICA’S ULTRA-COVERT INTELLIGENCE AGENCY

FREEDOM FIRE BOOK 1

Don Pendleton

Freedom comes at a high price and requires constant guardianship. Taken for granted, it can slip away all too easily. When the hand weakens and the eye turns aside, the time may come when the resolve needs to be strengthened. And in those times there may be a need for armed conflict to restore the balance. As always it is the men and women of the Armed Services who must carry that burden. They bear the brunt of the inevitable clash of arms, and they do so in the spirit of the pledge they made to ever defend and protect our peace. Their fight goes on. They continue to suffer and often to make the ultimate sacrifice. They deserve both our respect and our enduring gratitude.

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

San Remo, Italian Riviera

Abe Keen had a lead. The freelance investigative reporter was involved in a project chasing down former members of Saddam Hussein’s administration, and he’d been working on his story for the past three months. Keen had succeeded in identifying and photographing four of the former dictator’s cabinet members who had managed to escape from Iraq as the coalition forces moved in. Working from tip-offs from his not-inconsiderable sources, Keen had journeyed to a villa on the Italian Riviera, where he was expecting to find a group of the hard-line inner circle. If the information was true and he managed to get the final batch of photographs, the journalist would have everything he needed to complete his series of articles.

Keen was perched on an outcrop overlooking the villa. From his vantage point, armed with his camera and telephoto lens, he was able to look down on the pool and the patio surrounding it. Three hours had passed, but as yet he’d seen nothing of significance.

He was used to long periods of inactivity. It came with the job. The great pictures seldom came easy. Not in Keen’s line of business. He wasn’t looking for that defining moment when the lens caught a fragment of life at its most fragile. Keen was a hunter. His life paralleled the man in the bush, stalking his prey and waiting for the right time to squeeze the trigger. It was often a long time coming, and one of the first things the hunter had to learn was patience. The ability to sit for long periods, doing nothing. Just waiting. Waiting for that split second when his quarry presented itself in the crosshairs. Keen had honed his craft over the years. Now it was part of him. Just as breathing was a natural function, so was Keen’s ability to let the moment come to him—and when it did he grasped it and froze it on film.

Below him there was movement on the poolside. First, the armed bodyguards. Even though the villa was behind high walls, with electronic warning systems, the bodyguards always came out and scanned the immediate area. They moved with the precise actions of men who breathed security. Once they had the poolside secure, they stood back while the principals came out and took their places around the table, talking among themselves.

Keen put his eye to the viewfinder of his 35mm camera, using the motor-driven, powerful telephoto lens to check out each of the four men around the table. As each one came into sharp focus, Keen pressed the release button and photographed him.

He knew them all well. They were all fedayeen, ex-members of Saddam Hussein’s regime, faithful carriers of the flame still dedicated to Iraq’s old guard. These men lived and breathed for the day they could return to Iraq and take up their former positions and rule the country once more. They were dreamers who closed their eyes to reality, fervently clinging to the tattered remains of a defeated and crushed dictatorship. Regardless of the inevitably of the outcome, they steadfastly refused to accept it.

Keen’s diligence had paid off. Here, now, he had his final proof. The four fedayeen were gathered in one place, most likely discussing their plans for a victorious return to Baghdad. Watching them, Keen decided it might even be sad if it wasn’t scary. These men were no amateurs. Far from being idealistic dreamers, they were hard, ruthless men, who had killed in the name of the old regime and who would kill again if the need arose. He had no doubts on that score. Whether or not they succeeded in their planned return to power, the quartet below would create a lot of death and suffering if they were allowed to carry on with their plans.

Sudden movement by the open sliding doors that led poolside caught Keen’s attention. He swung the camera lens in that direction and saw a tall, broad figure step out of the villa. The man was dressed in light clothing, his dark hair cut short against his skull. He paused as the bright sun caught him and raised a large hand to shield his face. He turned and crossed to the table where the four men had pushed to their feet. Keen watched as each man stepped forward to embrace the newcomer.

For a few moments the group stood talking, and then, as if by some invisible signal, the four returned to their seats and waited for the newcomer to join them. There was a spare seat at one end of the table. The man moved to it and sat. He stared around the table, at each man in turn, speaking to them individually. He finally sat back, placing his large hands flat on the table in front of him and for the first time raised his head, giving Keen the opportunity to focus on his face. As the lens brought the face into sharp relief Keen’s finger hovered over the release button, ready to take the photograph.