by Dan O'Shea
Ferguson needed to get some people into a couple of places right now. Big spike in traffic on a lot of the nets the various three-letter pukes were monitoring, the Al-Qaeda types thinking this was their big chance to kick the Great Satan while he was down. Really, that just meant they were sticking their heads up out of their rat holes for a change. Target-rich environment. Ferguson had to go. Had a flight down to San Diego to brief a SEAL team on a little exercise in Malaysia.
Ferguson was about to click off the TV when the Hurley story broke. Son of a bitch. The Boy Scout had not only saved the girl, he’d gotten Hurley, too, or dinged him good at least. Ferguson smiled. His boy Lynch had game — even made that punk Hurley hang a medal on him before Lynch stuck the knife in. He clicked off the set, grabbed his go bag by the door, stuck his head into the next office.
“Wheels up in twenty, Chen.”
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-9263ac-036f-194c-e8a6-1053-af1d-0fbdde
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 23.09.2013
Created using: calibre 1.3.0, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
Dan O
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