Enemy of the State (Volume 16) (A Mitch Rapp Novel, Band 14) - Softcover

Buch 16 von 24: Mitch Rapp

Flynn, Vince; Mills, Kyle

 
9781476783536: Enemy of the State (Volume 16) (A Mitch Rapp Novel, Band 14)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 1476783535 ISBN 13: 9781476783536
Verlag: Pocket Books, 2018

Inhaltsangabe

“In the world of black-op thrillers, Mitch Rapp continues to be among the best of the best” (Booklist, starred review), and he returns in Vince Flynn’s #1 New York Times bestselling series alone and targeted by a country that is supposed to be one of America’s closest allies.

After 9/11, the United States made one of the most secretive and dangerous deals in its history. The evidence against the powerful Saudis who coordinated the attack would be buried. In return, King Faisal would promise to keep the oil flowing and deal with the conspirators in his midst.

When the king’s own nephew is discovered funding ISIS, the President—furious but unable to take action against the Saudis—gives Rapp his next mission: he must find out more about which high-level Saudis are involved in the scheme and kill them. The catch? Rapp will get no support from the United States.

Forced to make a decision that will change his life forever, Rapp quits the CIA and assembles a group of independent contractors to help him complete the mission. They’ve barely begun unraveling the connections between the Saudi government and ISIS when the brilliant new head of the intelligence directorate discovers their efforts. With Rapp getting too close, he threatens to go public with the details of the post-9/11 agreement between the two countries. Facing an international incident that could end his political career, the President orders America’s intelligence agencies to join the Saudis’ effort to hunt the former CIA man down.

Rapp, supported only by a team of mercenaries with dubious allegiances, finds himself at the center of the most elaborate manhunt in history. It’s only a matter of time before he’s caught or killed. Will it be enough to turn the tables on the Saudis and clear his name?

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Über die Autorinnen und Autoren

#1 New York Times bestselling author Vince Flynn (1966–2013) created one of contemporary fiction’s most popular heroes: CIA counterterrorist agent Mitch Rapp, featured in thirteen of Flynn’s acclaimed political thrillers. All of his novels are New York Times bestsellers, including his stand-alone debut novel, Term Limits.  

Kyle Mills is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of twenty-three political thrillers, including Code Red, Total Power, Lethal Agent, and Red War for Vince Flynn and The Patriot Attack for Robert Ludlum. He initially found inspiration from his father, the former director of Interpol, and still draws on his contacts in the intelligence community to give his books such realism. Avid outdoor athletes, he and his wife split their time between Jackson Hole, Wyoming, and Granada, Spain. Visit his website at KyleMills.com or connect with him on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram @KyleMillsAuthor.  

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Enemy of the State
CHAPTER 1

Above al-Shirqat

Iraq

MITCH Rapp tried to find a more comfortable position, but none was available. His helmet was jammed against the top of the fuselage and there was something sharp poking through the mesh seat just to the right of his spine.

Not exactly the CIA’s G550, but then this aircraft hadn’t exactly been designed to ferry government VIPs. Its only purpose was the insertion of select teams behind enemy lines, and in order to do that effectively it had to be small, fast, and stealthy. There was no pilot or cockpit, no cabin pressure or heat, and no light other than the dim glow from a computer screen to his right.

He glanced over and scanned the data it contained. Four hundred knots at 25,000 feet on a south-by-southeast heading. An infrared map moved lazily beneath the compass and numbers, tracking the ground. Near the bottom of the display, his target began to appear.

Al-Shirqat.

Despite everything he’d lived through—everything he’d done—there were very few places that held memories bad enough to make his palms sweat. In fact, only two. The place his wife had died and ­al-Shirqat.

A green light over the door flashed and he disconnected his mask from the aircraft’s oxygen supply, immediately reattaching it to a low-volume tank on his wingsuit. Slipping out of his chair, he sat on the carbon fiber floor and lashed a small pack between his legs. The countdown had started and he waited until the door began to retract to lower his goggles. The outside air temperature was thirty below zero and it lashed at him as he fought his way to the inky black opening. When the countdown in his earpiece reached zero, he threw himself out, struggling to maintain a stable position as he accelerated into his free fall.

After a few seconds he was steady enough to glance at the screen strapped to his wrist. Along with altitude, it indicated direction and horizontal distance to his drop zone. Not that hitting it exactly was all that critical—it was a more or less randomly chosen spot about a mile from the edge of the ISIS-controlled city. His old mentor Stan Hurley had beaten precision into him during jump training, though. Rapp could still picture the man standing in the middle of the landing circle, staring skyward.

If you don’t kick me in my head, I’m going to kick the shit out of yours.

Who would have thought he’d miss the old cuss so much?

Everything below him was dark, creating a disorienting sensation of floating in space. Saddam Hussein’s former officers were becoming increasingly prominent in ISIS leadership and with their rise came a commensurate improvement in discipline. They’d completely blacked out al-Shirqat in an effort to reduce the effectiveness of U.S. bombing runs. Worse, a few mobile SAM units were being moved around the battered streets. Their functionality was unknown, but the knowledge that they were there was enough to prompt him to jump from altitude and come in sideways.

He pulled his chute about a thousand feet above the ground, releasing the pack between his legs and letting it drop onto the lanyard connected to him. With a few deft pulls on the chute’s toggles, he came down directly on top of the planned target—a sandy knoll that offered him the high ground.

Rapp gathered the chute quickly and pulled off his goggles and helmet. He lay still for almost two minutes, listening. When he was satisfied that his arrival had gone unnoticed, he stripped down to a grimy pair of jeans and T-shirt, then dragged his pack to him.

It didn’t contain much more than a shoulder holster with a Glock and silencer, two extra mags, some dried meat, and a shovel to bury everything else. Once done, there was little that would identify him as anything more than a local Iraqi who had been caught in the desert after sunset.

Without the screen on his wrist, he was forced to use the stars for navigation. Fortunately, they were just as effective now as they had been when explorers first set out to discover the world. He followed a southerly course, rubbing at his face to remove any marks left by his goggles. Based on weeks of overhead surveillance, he didn’t expect to run into any security forces as he entered the city, but there was nothing certain in this business.

* * *

When Rapp reached the bombed-out buildings at the edge of town, he dropped to his stomach again. The men he was there for were farther toward the interior and he mentally reviewed the path through the city laid out by the Agency’s cartographers.

When he’d escaped al-Shirqat last time, he’d been posing as an American ISIS recruit. The former Iraqi general controlling the area had devised a plan to use dirty bombs to take out Saudi Arabia’s oil-producing capacity, destabilizing the world economy and leaving the Saudis vulnerable to a takeover by Islamic radicals. Rapp had managed to stop the plot, but not without the help of the local resistance.

Now the identities of those men had been discovered and ISIS was closing in on them. Most of the people at Langley thought he was crazy to come back, arguing that the risks far outweighed the rewards. And they were probably right. With one exception, the five young men Rapp was there to extract weren’t good fighters. None were much use at gathering intelligence, either. Mostly they sat around making long political speeches that the others then heartily agreed with. But when he’d needed them, they’d stepped up. Fuck if he wouldn’t do the same.

Unfortunately, that decision had forced him to put a reluctant Joe Maslick in charge of the Rabat, Morocco, operation. In the end, it was probably a good thing. The op wasn’t all that complicated and Maslick needed some command experience whether he liked it or not.

Rapp closed his eyes for a moment, acknowledging that he was just stalling. He’d hoped never to have to return to this place, going so far as to try to convince the military to mount a major assault to take back the city. Predictably, they’d pushed back. It wasn’t that they didn’t think they could do it. With U.S. support, the Iraqi army was strong enough now to recapture it. The problem was that the locals didn’t ­really see the Iraqi army as much different than ISIS. Just another occupying force to fight an endless guerrilla war against. Welcome to the Middle East.

Rapp stood and moved forward, slipping between two buildings and navigating by the light of a full moon. This area of town had taken a lot of battle damage and was largely uninhabited now. He’d been through it once before but hadn’t bothered to commit it to memory.

After about five minutes of generally southern travel, he came to a collapsed building with little more than the east wall surviving. It was one of the landmarks he’d identified from a photo at Langley and he turned left, cutting diagonally across a cratered square.

By the time he made it to the far side, he was certain he was being tracked. There was a natural rhythm to the debris dislodging from the structures around him and now it was off just enough to stand out. The footfalls were random and careful, but to the practiced ear they were unmistakable.

He kept his pace casual, climbing over a burned car to gain access to the alley behind it. When he was certain he was obscured from view, he sidestepped into a gap in the wall to his right.

Whoever was behind him was disciplined—Rapp would give him that. It...

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Verlag
Pocket Books
Erscheinungsdatum
2018
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
1476783535
ISBN 13 
9781476783536
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
464
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Buchpark GmbH
gpsr@buchpark.de

Krügerweg 1
Trebbin
Brandenburg
14959
Deutschland

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