“I made a difference,” she said.
“No. Don’t go, Sassi,” Harwood said. “Stay right here. Hold my hand.”
“It’s okay,” she whispered.
“No, it’s not. You’re not leaving. You don’t get off this easy.”
She licked her lips and closed her eyes, then smiled.
EPILOGUE
Two weeks later, Harwood and Clutch were back in a hide site a half mile from Garmisch, Germany.
Their spot was muddy from the thawing snow, but that was fine. Helped with the camouflage.
“Your old man okay?” Harwood asked.
“He was pissed at me for a few minutes, but he got over it. I should have told him I was okay, but we couldn’t risk it.”
“Turns out, he gave us some good intel. That he did. What happened with that truck contract thing? A billion bucks? WTF, bro,” Harwood said.
“Well, it’s going to an American company, that’s for sure. Jobs, man.”
“No reason we can’t start making trucks for a billion bucks,” Harwood said.
“Ha! Yeah, I wish.” Clutch chuckled. “Target standing on the balcony.”
“He needs to come around that pylon. He’s just standing there. I can only get half his shoulder.”
“Patience, grasshopper.”
Harwood smirked. Indeed. Sassi was recovering in Walter Reed, where he had convinced Bronson to take her. The bullet had punched a hole in her right lung. The coast guard had delivered her in time to a trauma team that was already set up for a mass-casualty event. The drone with Jasar Tankian was found at the bottom of Lake Michigan, along with four containers of sarin gas that could have killed tens of thousands of people. Add in the four that rolled out the back into the lake, and there was the potential to slaughter nearly one hundred thousand people in Milwaukee and surrounding areas.
Andrea Comstock was still in the presidential race, having fully admitted her role in trying to secure the release of Corporal Nolte. Voters were split on lionizing her or condemning her. That was probably the norm going forward in American politics, Harwood figured. Comstock had delivered Max Wolff’s name as the mastermind, confirming the intercept of the call between Tankian and Wolff a few days ago.
And so here they were, on an authorized mission that wasn’t on the books or sanctioned in any official capacity. Both he and Clutch were winged but had recovered well enough to be the ones to execute this task.
Harwood’s cell phone was leaning against a rock to his left. He glanced at the device when it lit up in silent mode: CSM Murdoch.
“No hiding from the sergeant major,” Clutch said.
“Ranger One,” Harwood answered. His voice was firm, but his heart was falling through his stomach. There was only one reason that Murdoch would be calling him right now.
Monisha.
“I know you’re executing, but I’ve got to warn you. Monisha has been missing from Mini and Pops’s house for about two days. I found my parents unconscious on the floor when I showed up. Took us a while to uncover all the back-and-forth about who was spending the night with whom, but it turns out there are three girls missing and there is some evidence they are overseas.”
“What evidence?”
“Interpol has photos of three teenagers being hurried into a van at the executive terminal in Munich.”
Munich. Close to Garmisch.
“Here he comes,” Clutch said.
Harwood simulated pulling the trigger.
Deke Bronson and Valerie Hinojosa came into view, racing around the deck corners from opposite directions, mouths moving, probably yelling, “FBI!”
Wolff held up his hands but was smiling.
“What’s in his left hand?” Harwood asked Clutch, who was looking through his spotter’s scope.
“It’s closed around something, not sure.”
“Do not shoot,” Harwood said into his microphone. “Suspect has something in his left hand. Could be a detonator.”
“Roger,” Hinojosa said.
Hinojosa’s hair swirled behind her as she raced toward Wolff, who had quickly reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a pistol. The barrel was now against his head, and he was shouting.
Both Bronson and Hinojosa were in shooter’s stances, pistols up and aimed at Wolff. If they didn’t kill him, he might kill himself.
He was saying something to Hinojosa, whose face dropped. She looked through the sliding glass door. Harwood moved his scope. Monisha was bound and gagged along with two of her friends. They were all secured by duct tape with suicide vests slung over their shoulders. Monisha’s eyes were wide, wet with tears.
Harwood growled.
“Easy, Vick. I see them. We’ve got this.”
“He’s saying if we don’t let him go, he will kill everyone. Monisha’s here,” Bronson said.
“I know,” Harwood said. “Let him go. We can follow.”
“Vick—”
“Just do it, Deke. That’s my daughter,” Harwood said.
For a full minute, the standoff continued. Then Wolff began backing into the house. He reappeared on the east side, a speck in the distance, carrying something heavy against his chest. A helicopter alighted on a helipad and picked him up.
Harwood and Clutch were up and sprinting down the ridgeline. They had five hundred meters to cover.
Bronson and Hinojosa disappeared inside the house.
“Vick! Vick!” Hinojosa was yelling, but the radio communications were spotty when they were angling down the ravine toward the mountain retreat.
They scrambled up the back deck of the house and found Bronson and Hinojosa tossing the suicide vests over the balcony into a swale.
He saw two teenage girls huddled in the home against a sofa.
“Where’s Monisha?” he barked.
Bronson squared up with him and said, “Vick, Wolff took her.”
Harwood bolted out the front door as the helicopter spun into the distance.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Big thanks to Nick Irving for his leadership and friendship. He’s a great role model—exceptionally creative and fun to work with. I’m certainly privileged to be partnered with Vick Harwood on the Reaper books. Likewise, thank you to our editor, Marc Resnick, and assistant editor, Hannah O’Grady, of St. Martin’s Press/Macmillan Publishing. Their input is invaluable in helping keep Vick Harwood razor sharp. Thanks also to the fabulous editors and marketing team who worked hard to make Reaper: Drone Strike an exciting read. This project is possible because of the vision of our collective agent, Scott Miller at Trident Media Group. Nick and I are grateful that Scott continues to be a great mentor and to build author careers. Lastly, thanks to you, our readers, and your investment in Vick Harwood and his adventures. You make it all worthwhile.
ALSO BY NICHOLAS IRVING
Reaper: Threat Zero
Reaper: Ghost Target
The Reaper
Way of the Reaper
ALSO BY A. J. TATA
Sudden Threat
Rogue Threat
Hidden Threat
Mortal Threat
Foreign and Domestic
Three Minutes to Midnight
Besieged
Direct Fire
Dark Winter
Double Crossfire
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
NICHOLAS IRVING spent six years in the Army’s Special Operations 3rd Ranger Battalion 75th Ranger Regiment, serving from demolitions assaulter to Master Sniper. He was the first African American to serve as a sniper in his battalion and is now the owner of HardShoot, where he trains personnel in the art of long-range shooting, from Olympians to members of the Spec Ops community. He lives in San Antonio, Texas. You can sign up for email updates here.
Brigadier General ANTHONY J. TATA, U.S. Army (Ret.), commanded combat units in the 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions and the 10th Mountain Division. His last combat tour was in Afghanistan in 2007, where he earned the Combat Action Badge and Bronze Star Medal. He is the auth
or of twelve bestselling novels, including Publishers Weekly 2017 Best Book of the Year, Besieged. He is a frequent foreign-policy guest commentator on Fox News, CNN, CBS News, and One America News. NBC’s Today Show featured General Tata’s career transition from the army to education leadership where he has served as the Chief Operations Officer of Washington, DC, Public Schools for firebrand Chancellor Michelle Rhee and later as the Superintendent of the sixteenth largest school district in the nation in Wake County/Raleigh, North Carolina. He lives in Arlington, Virginia. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Also by Nicholas Irving
About the Authors
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
First published in the United States by St. Martin’s Press, an imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group
REAPER: DRONE STRIKE. Copyright © 2020 by Nicholas Irving. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Ervin Serrano
Cover photographs: drone © kovaymergiz/Getty Images; texture © phongphan 5922/Getty Images
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-24074-3 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-24075-0 (ebook)
eISBN 9781250240750
Our books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at [email protected].
First Edition: 2020
Reaper: Drone Strike: A Sniper Novel Page 29
