Read Online Sacrifice by Will Jordan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Will Jordan
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Thrillers, Crime, Mystery, Military, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Crime Fiction, Contemporary Fiction, Thrillers & Suspense
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seats.
These weapon mounts were much sought after by US Army vehicle crews, though the cost per unit made them as rare as gold dust.
McKnight brought them to a halt at the edge of the debris field and killed the engine. Hauling his door open, Drake stepped out, his boots crunching on the dry rocky ground.
The heat seemed to have grown more intense as the sun rose towards its zenith, the feeling amplified by their sudden exit from the air-conditioned vehicle. Drake checked his watch – 10:46.
His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed one of the Horizon security men coming their way, presumably the leader of the protection detail.
He was a big guy, not so much tall as broad. He couldn’t have been more than 5 foot 10, yet Drake guessed his weight at perhaps 220, maybe 230 pounds of solid muscle. He had the look of a rugby player: short and stocky, rugged and powerful.
His head was covered with a sweat-stained bandanna, his deeply lined face darkened by several days’ growth. He looked to be in his late forties, and judging by the confidence in his stride, he was no stranger to places like Afghanistan.
‘My name’s Vermaak,’ he began. ‘I’m in charge here.’
Drake was surprised by his heavy South African accent, though perhaps he shouldn’t have been. A lot of their operatives had drifted into mercenary work after the end of apartheid. Vermaak looked as if he belonged to that generation.
‘Ryan Drake, CIA,’ he replied, shaking hands with him. The man’s grip was strong enough to crush boulders.
Drake’s accent prompted a raised eyebrow. ‘I didn’t know the boys at Langley employed foreigners.’
‘They’re an equal opportunities sort of place. Just like Horizon, I imagine,’ Drake added with a pointed look at the South African.
The older man grinned. ‘Fair enough. So what can I do for you, Mr Drake?’
‘We’re here to survey the crash site.’
Vermaak glanced at the rest of the group and frowned. ‘The army forensics guys already surveyed the whole site. I know, because I spent four hours sat on my arse waiting for them to get it done.’
‘I understand that. But we have to make our own assessment.’
‘We have orders to destroy the wreck and pull out before nightfall.’ To emphasise his point, Vermaak pointed towards the ruined chopper.
Fixed to the crumpled forward bulkhead was a cylindrical steel container the size of a small beer keg. The distinctive yellow wires trailing from the top made its purpose obvious. No doubt it was filled with high explosive – enough to vaporise the chopper and prevent anything valuable falling into the wrong hands.
‘Our orders come from the Director of National Intelligence, and they supersede yours.’ Drake glanced up at the sky. ‘Anyway, you’ve got at least eight hours until sunset. That’s more than enough time for us to finish up here.’
Vermaak said nothing for a few moments. Clearly he didn’t like what he was hearing, but neither could he ignore Drake’s authority. It was rather like poker, and Drake held all the aces in this case.
Finally he shrugged. ‘Fine. Do what you have to. But come sundown, my men and I pull out. Do we understand each other, Mr Drake?’
Drake nodded, unperturbed by his hostile tone. Hehadn’t come here looking for a new best friend; he had come to get results.
‘Perfectly.’
As Vermaak strode away to confer with two of his men, Drake turned to his own two teammates. ‘John, I want you to take a look around. See if you can find any evidence of the people who did this. Boot prints, vehicle tracks … whatever.’
In addition to his skills as a sniper, the man was an outstanding tracker, able to discern meaning from something as insignificant as a scuff mark on the ground or a few bent blades of grass. If there was anything in the vicinity worth finding, Drake felt certain he would find it.
‘On it, buddy,’ Keegan replied, already moving.
‘Sam, you’re with me. Let’s get to
These weapon mounts were much sought after by US Army vehicle crews, though the cost per unit made them as rare as gold dust.
McKnight brought them to a halt at the edge of the debris field and killed the engine. Hauling his door open, Drake stepped out, his boots crunching on the dry rocky ground.
The heat seemed to have grown more intense as the sun rose towards its zenith, the feeling amplified by their sudden exit from the air-conditioned vehicle. Drake checked his watch – 10:46.
His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed one of the Horizon security men coming their way, presumably the leader of the protection detail.
He was a big guy, not so much tall as broad. He couldn’t have been more than 5 foot 10, yet Drake guessed his weight at perhaps 220, maybe 230 pounds of solid muscle. He had the look of a rugby player: short and stocky, rugged and powerful.
His head was covered with a sweat-stained bandanna, his deeply lined face darkened by several days’ growth. He looked to be in his late forties, and judging by the confidence in his stride, he was no stranger to places like Afghanistan.
‘My name’s Vermaak,’ he began. ‘I’m in charge here.’
Drake was surprised by his heavy South African accent, though perhaps he shouldn’t have been. A lot of their operatives had drifted into mercenary work after the end of apartheid. Vermaak looked as if he belonged to that generation.
‘Ryan Drake, CIA,’ he replied, shaking hands with him. The man’s grip was strong enough to crush boulders.
Drake’s accent prompted a raised eyebrow. ‘I didn’t know the boys at Langley employed foreigners.’
‘They’re an equal opportunities sort of place. Just like Horizon, I imagine,’ Drake added with a pointed look at the South African.
The older man grinned. ‘Fair enough. So what can I do for you, Mr Drake?’
‘We’re here to survey the crash site.’
Vermaak glanced at the rest of the group and frowned. ‘The army forensics guys already surveyed the whole site. I know, because I spent four hours sat on my arse waiting for them to get it done.’
‘I understand that. But we have to make our own assessment.’
‘We have orders to destroy the wreck and pull out before nightfall.’ To emphasise his point, Vermaak pointed towards the ruined chopper.
Fixed to the crumpled forward bulkhead was a cylindrical steel container the size of a small beer keg. The distinctive yellow wires trailing from the top made its purpose obvious. No doubt it was filled with high explosive – enough to vaporise the chopper and prevent anything valuable falling into the wrong hands.
‘Our orders come from the Director of National Intelligence, and they supersede yours.’ Drake glanced up at the sky. ‘Anyway, you’ve got at least eight hours until sunset. That’s more than enough time for us to finish up here.’
Vermaak said nothing for a few moments. Clearly he didn’t like what he was hearing, but neither could he ignore Drake’s authority. It was rather like poker, and Drake held all the aces in this case.
Finally he shrugged. ‘Fine. Do what you have to. But come sundown, my men and I pull out. Do we understand each other, Mr Drake?’
Drake nodded, unperturbed by his hostile tone. Hehadn’t come here looking for a new best friend; he had come to get results.
‘Perfectly.’
As Vermaak strode away to confer with two of his men, Drake turned to his own two teammates. ‘John, I want you to take a look around. See if you can find any evidence of the people who did this. Boot prints, vehicle tracks … whatever.’
In addition to his skills as a sniper, the man was an outstanding tracker, able to discern meaning from something as insignificant as a scuff mark on the ground or a few bent blades of grass. If there was anything in the vicinity worth finding, Drake felt certain he would find it.
‘On it, buddy,’ Keegan replied, already moving.
‘Sam, you’re with me. Let’s get to
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