Vortex- Berlin
Page 26
He felt a hand grasping his shoulder. Atcho stepped between him and Sofia, giving his back to the major.
Horton put on his most indignant face and spoke in his best petulant voice. “Well, I’m offended—” He leaned on his crutches, grinning.
Atcho wrapped his arms around Sofia and glanced over his shoulder. “Joe. Shut up.”
THANK YOU!
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed Fahrenheit Kuwait. If you would be so kind as to take a moment to leave a review on Amazon or elsewhere, I would be very grateful.
Reviews and referrals are as vital to an author’s success as a good GPA is to a student’s application to a name-school.
I know this can be a pain, so if you write a review, please email me at Lee@AuthorLeeJackson.com, and I will forward to you the story behind Atcho’s character and my thoughts on what happens to him and his compatriots next. I thought that might be a fun way to say thank you.
Best regards,
Lee
Be among the first to learn of new releases and get a FREE ebook by signing up for my New Releases newsletter at:
Get Updates
Don't worry about being spammed, I'll be the only person sending email. I do that personally, and only a few times a year when there's something new and noteworthy to share.
Now turn the page for a preview of FAHRENHEIT KUWAIT, #4 in the ATCHO International Spy Thriller series.
FAHRENHEIT KUWAIT
1
Buenos Aires, Argentina, March 17, 1992
A red Ford F-100 pickup truck with a white camper shell rolled east behind a yellow and black Ford Falcon on tree-lined Arroyo in a tranquil neighborhood, headed toward the intersection with Suipacha. The vehicle cut close to the edge of the street and parked on the corner, a few feet from the side entrance of a stately three-story building—the Israeli Embassy. Its tires squealed against the curb, casting off an odor of burnt rubber.
Across the street, those were the last sounds that Father Juan Carlos Brumana heard as he strolled in front of Mater Admirabilis Cathedral toward the adjoining children’s school. The blast of two hundred and twenty pounds of high explosives and shrapnel in the back of the pickup hurled a chunk of debris from the church, striking the priest and killing him instantly. It ripped the façade off the front of the embassy and blew through the concrete and marble structure sending it skyward in a cloud of dust. The concussive force caught the Ford, heaved it into the air, and shredded it into thousands of unrecognizable pieces raining to the ground with dust and rubble, revealing a gaping emptiness where the embassy had been. The rear wall of the building remained upright, still supporting sagging fragments of its corrugated roof. Remnants of the second floor spilled onto the first, and in various places bright red blood splotches identified where human remains and separated body-parts lay.
The roar of the explosion and its aftermath gave way to cries of agony and moaning. Seconds later, the wail of sirens joined them as emergency vehicles rushed to the scene. Good Samaritans waded in to rescue those they could, while onlookers formed a wary half-ring at the edge of the debris field.
Among the growing crowd, Klaus watched. He had known the time and place of the attack. He had exulted on seeing the truck approach, as it pulled alongside the ceremonial entrance, and as the shock wave struck. Now he allowed himself to be jostled aside as police moved in to clear the crowd and make way for rescue teams.
He moved off a distance and then returned to his hotel to make a call. “It’s done,” was all he said. “Where should I go next?”
“Come back here,” came the reply. “We’ll talk.”
***
Two days later, Klaus climbed the wide stairs into a palatial home on the outskirts of Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. It belonged to Yousef, his hawaladar, the man who moved Klaus’ money to wherever he needed it on short notice.
“Welcome, Habibi,” Yousef greeted him with the traditional exchange of kisses on the cheeks and led him to a seating area in a courtyard amidst swaying palms and tinkling fountains. A boy brought out a brass tray with cups and a pot of tea.
“Tell me about the bomb in Buenos Aires,” Yousef said as he pulled his traditional white Saudi garb and settled his portly form onto an ornate couch. He tossed his head to move aside the red and white headdress.
“Not much to tell. The operation went like clockwork. The embassy was completely destroyed. Twenty-nine people were killed including the wives of two Israeli diplomats and two other staff members. Two hundred and forty-two were wounded. I’d call that a success. Thank you for arranging so that I could observe.”
Yousef acknowledged with a slight bow of his head. “Let’s talk about your next active mission.”
Klaus gestured impatience. “I’m glad to be with Al Qaeda, but I have my own targets. That was the deal Usama bin Ladin promised. I spent most of the last year training his recruits at the camps in Somalia. I’m tired of that. I want to get back in action. I have my own money and three nuclear bombs. My name is still Sahab Kadyrov, and I want to strike for Chechnya.”
“I know,” Yousef nodded, “you want to hit Moscow. But the Soviet Union is history. Anyone can see it’s on its last legs. We are talking months, not years—maybe even this year. There is talk that Chechnya will declare its independence from Russia soon after it is gone.”
Klaus smirked. “Russia. The great northern bear. I promise you it will only take enough time in its cave to lick its wounds. Whoever emerges as the strong man will not let Chechnya go—it’s at the center of too much economic activity that benefits Russia. We need to strike before anyone in Moscow consolidates power.”
Yousef took a sip of tea while he watched Klaus’ expressions. “I understand, but a bomb in Russia would also have been wasted. Your goal is to destroy the Soviet Union, but it is coming down under its own pressure.” He reached over and nudged Klaus. “Your higher objective is to spread Islam, is that not so?”
Klaus nodded his agreement.
“Let Al Qaeda help you. We’ve developed a new concept for how to use your assets for greatest effect. When the Soviet Union is gone, only one superpower will remain to be brought down. After that, the way will be clear to bring shariah everywhere and to bring about the Chechnya of your dreams.”
Klaus regarded Yousef hesitantly. “I’ll listen, but I won’t wait forever.”
Get it here
Other Thrillers by Lee Jackson
Learn more about Atcho, get freebies, and be among the first to hear of new releases by signing up for Lee’s New Releases Newsletter at
Get Updates
Acknowledgments
Writing thrillers full of twists and turns is not difficulty—doing so against a backdrop of known historical events is much tougher. The outcome is known. To tell a rapidly paced story that entertains the reader requires detailed research and insertion of elements to raise conflict and add suspense without altering the facts of history. Surprising readers without confusing them or insulting their knowledge of history or procedure is the real art. Then there are the characters…. I’m grateful to the Editors and Beta Readers of Vortex: Berlin for their guidance with the finer points of plot and character, and for their assistance in fighting my natural inclination toward typos: Jennifer McIntyre, Stephanie Parent, John Shephard, Mark Gillespie, Christian Jackson, Anita Paulsen, Margee Harwell, Al Fracker, Steve Collier, Jerry Warner and friends who cannot be named.
About the Author
Lee Jackson is a bestselling, award-winning spy thriller author. He was an Infantry Officer in the US Army. His first book, THE ATCHO CONSPIRACY (formerlyCurse The Moon) was sold in more than 5 countries. RASPUTIN’S LEGACY, was released on July 28, 2017. Lee lives and works with his wife in Texas.
Be among the first to learn of new releases and get a FREE ebook by signing up for my New Releases newsletter at:
Get Updates
Don't worry about being spammed, I'll be the only person sending email. I do that personally, and
only a few times a year when there's something new and noteworthy to share.
Published by:
Stonewall Publishers, LLC
March 15, 2019
Vortex: Berlin
Copyright 2019 by Lee Jackson
ISBN: 978-0-9898025-2-9
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019901905
Fahrenheit Kuwait is a work of fiction. Where real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales appear, they are used fictionally. All other elements of the novel are drawn from the author’s imagination. All rights reserved. In accordance with the US Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, loading, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at Lee@AuthorLeeJackson.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Stonewall Publishers, LLC
Austin, Texas
ISBN: 978-0-9898025-3-6
LCCN: 2019901905
First Edition, March 2019
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
Created with Vellum