Read Online The Gift of the Dragon by Michael Murray - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Murray
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army; it doesn’t happen. Still, she must be somewhat dangerous or very lucky to have avoided capture this long—one year added up to about a lifetime when you pocketed the Bureau’s money. She had been in the wind for almost a decade!
Jake thought back on his own military service, cut short by idiotic bureaucrats with no idea how to fight a war. Sure, his team sported a higher “civilian” kill rate—by several orders—than others, and that rat Hobbes had turned him in for executing that old Haji and a couple of kids. Probably shouldn't have posted the videos on YouTube.
The vids had not shown his face, but Hobbes had pointed out to the base commander visiting from REMF-land that the size-twelve boots in one video were nonstandard-issue Salomon Explorers with the same scuff marks as Jake's.
Maybe the kid in that dusty field hadn’t owned that AK-47 Jake left on the body, but he would have used it on Jake's team if he had. When you got an opportunity to trample on a scorpion before it got a chance to sting, you took it! However, the sad state of the US Army had left it more concerned with fitting the “rules of engagement” on a little card than with winning the war!
His favorite line read, “Patrol only in areas where you are reasonably certain that you will not have to defend yourselves with lethal force." He remembered Jacobs saying he guessed he couldn't go home now because the ROE wouldn't let him walk around Detroit. He had said as much to the colonel when they had hauled him in to answer Hobbes’s claims. The little weasel! Just because Jake had confiscated the kid's hash and smoked it with Jacobs and Marks, he suddenly got all squeamish!
The colonel had given Jake a choice then: court martial and probably twenty-five years behind bars—or a talk with a man who had a job for him. Jake had taken the second choice.
Just then he heard the captain say the plane was about to land in Tampa. Out the window, he could see the purple pyramid on the top of the SunTrust tower and the western light shining from the fat old sun reflecting red and orange off the glass towers of downtown.
Jake discreetly checked his satellite phone. Disguised to look like a normal smartphone but powered by a military-grade chip, it had no problem staying connected during the flight. Won't crash the plane, either.
He saw a new text from Price. Alice’s flight followed about a half hour behind him, coming in from Portland. He would get a car at Alamo and camp out on the access road. Price's people would pick up the feed from the airport surveillance cameras and let him know what car she had when she came out. The TSA idiots might not have access to these, but Price surely did!
Jake got off the flight, picked up his luggage, and headed for the rental bus with a positive spring in his step, looking forward to some action. His orders to bring in Ms. Alice Sangerman, “preferably alive,” gave him a lot of leeway, and in the photos they'd sent him, she looked just his type: trim, blond, and spunky! And nowhere near fifty!
Alice
Alice flew into Tampa on a glorious evening, with the evening sun casting the Skyway and city buildings in a beautiful orange glow, and then the plane turned back west to land, and she caught a glimpse of the sun setting, huge and fiery over the Gulf of Mexico, with streamers of clouds making it look like a great dragon’s mouth breathing fire.
The paper from the man in the forest had gotten wet when the bear-hunting stormtrooper had dropped it, leaving the address unreadable. She could still make out a phone number, though, and she thought she had a plan for how to locate Moore’s last residence.
While waiting for her plane at Portland, she asked her wonderful new friend Ami how she could learn to communicate with her better and learn to use the Droid smartphone she existed on. Ami told her about a site with millions of books, one of them called “Speaking Droid for
Jake thought back on his own military service, cut short by idiotic bureaucrats with no idea how to fight a war. Sure, his team sported a higher “civilian” kill rate—by several orders—than others, and that rat Hobbes had turned him in for executing that old Haji and a couple of kids. Probably shouldn't have posted the videos on YouTube.
The vids had not shown his face, but Hobbes had pointed out to the base commander visiting from REMF-land that the size-twelve boots in one video were nonstandard-issue Salomon Explorers with the same scuff marks as Jake's.
Maybe the kid in that dusty field hadn’t owned that AK-47 Jake left on the body, but he would have used it on Jake's team if he had. When you got an opportunity to trample on a scorpion before it got a chance to sting, you took it! However, the sad state of the US Army had left it more concerned with fitting the “rules of engagement” on a little card than with winning the war!
His favorite line read, “Patrol only in areas where you are reasonably certain that you will not have to defend yourselves with lethal force." He remembered Jacobs saying he guessed he couldn't go home now because the ROE wouldn't let him walk around Detroit. He had said as much to the colonel when they had hauled him in to answer Hobbes’s claims. The little weasel! Just because Jake had confiscated the kid's hash and smoked it with Jacobs and Marks, he suddenly got all squeamish!
The colonel had given Jake a choice then: court martial and probably twenty-five years behind bars—or a talk with a man who had a job for him. Jake had taken the second choice.
Just then he heard the captain say the plane was about to land in Tampa. Out the window, he could see the purple pyramid on the top of the SunTrust tower and the western light shining from the fat old sun reflecting red and orange off the glass towers of downtown.
Jake discreetly checked his satellite phone. Disguised to look like a normal smartphone but powered by a military-grade chip, it had no problem staying connected during the flight. Won't crash the plane, either.
He saw a new text from Price. Alice’s flight followed about a half hour behind him, coming in from Portland. He would get a car at Alamo and camp out on the access road. Price's people would pick up the feed from the airport surveillance cameras and let him know what car she had when she came out. The TSA idiots might not have access to these, but Price surely did!
Jake got off the flight, picked up his luggage, and headed for the rental bus with a positive spring in his step, looking forward to some action. His orders to bring in Ms. Alice Sangerman, “preferably alive,” gave him a lot of leeway, and in the photos they'd sent him, she looked just his type: trim, blond, and spunky! And nowhere near fifty!
Alice
Alice flew into Tampa on a glorious evening, with the evening sun casting the Skyway and city buildings in a beautiful orange glow, and then the plane turned back west to land, and she caught a glimpse of the sun setting, huge and fiery over the Gulf of Mexico, with streamers of clouds making it look like a great dragon’s mouth breathing fire.
The paper from the man in the forest had gotten wet when the bear-hunting stormtrooper had dropped it, leaving the address unreadable. She could still make out a phone number, though, and she thought she had a plan for how to locate Moore’s last residence.
While waiting for her plane at Portland, she asked her wonderful new friend Ami how she could learn to communicate with her better and learn to use the Droid smartphone she existed on. Ami told her about a site with millions of books, one of them called “Speaking Droid for
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