Read Online Hunt the Falcon by Don Mann, Ralph Pezzullo - Free Book Online Page B

you’ve got to respect boundaries.”
    â€œIn other words, you don’t want me to argue with him.”
    â€œLike my daughter was taught in kindergarten: you get what you get, and you don’t complain.”
    Crocker didn’t say that once the SEALs launched the op there would be no stopping them. And he understood that the cooperation of local authorities was an enormous asset.
    The hotel was a modern six-story joint a few blocks from the Chao Phraya River and close to the busy night scene centered around Khao San Road. Anderson explained that many of the city’s attractions stood within walking distance—the National Museum, Grand Palace, Temple of the Emerald Buddha, and another spectacular gold-spired Buddhist temple called Wat Saket.
    Mancini asked Anderson about Wat Phai Rong Wua, which he said was described as the “most bizarre tourist attraction on the planet” by a travel magazine he had read on the plane.
    â€œIf you’re into graphic scenes of people being tortured by demons and monsters with blood and entrails hanging out, you’ll love it,” Anderson answered.
    â€œManny loves entrails of all kinds,” Ritchie joked. “In fact, he was just telling me he wanted pig entrails for dinner.”
    â€œI know a great little place where they serve them raw, grilled, or sautéed,” Anderson said, playing along as they passed through a cool caramel marble lobby decorated with tropical flowers.
    Anderson left them there and said he’d be back to pick them up at seven.
    â€œCal, you still with us?” Ritchie asked as they rode the elevator up to the fourth floor.
    â€œYeah. Why?” Cal, their weapons expert and sniper, had a Polynesian face that seemed creased in a perpetual smile. He was an enigma to most men on the team because he rarely said anything and kept to himself. Crocker knew him to be laser focused and extremely dependable during missions, which is all he cared about.
    â€œYou haven’t said a freakin’ word since we left D.C.,” Ritchie said.
    â€œThat’s because he’s been sitting next to you, and he hates your guts,” Akil said.
    Cal: “Not true.”
    Electronic Asian music played over the elevator PA. “Sounds like a group of castrated gerbils,” Akil commented.
    â€œIt actually fits into a genre called K-pop,” Mancini said.
    â€œWhat the fuck is that?” Ritchie asked.
    â€œElectro pop-style music that originated in South Korea. Its best-known song is ‘Gangnam Style,’ by Psy. You’re familiar with that, right?”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œIs there anything you don’t know?” Akil asked. “What do you do, stay up nights and just study random shit?”
    Mancini ignored him.
    Ritchie slapped Cal on the shoulder as they exited the elevator and started down the beige carpeted hallway. “So. What’s new?”
    â€œActually, I’ve been reading an interesting book.”
    â€œTell me about it.”
    Cal reached into his backpack and pulled out a thick paperback entitled The Creature from Jekyll Island .
    Ritchie looked at the cover and handed it back. “Who’s the creature?”
    â€œThe creature is the Federal Reserve System. According to this, the whole thing is a scam cooked up and run by some big banks. The system isn’t federal, and there aren’t any reserves.”
    â€œSounds like a real page-turner,” Ritchie said with a smirk.
    The room they entered was spacious and clean, with two king-sized beds, a TV mounted on the wall, and a bathroom that stank of lime-scented disinfectant and mold, Mancini quickly pointed out, being the fussiest member of the group. His wife, Teresa, described him as Martha Stewart in an alligator-wrestler’s body.
    â€œTwo men to a room,” Crocker announced. “Akil and I will take this one.”
    â€œHow come you two always room together?” Ritchie