by Dale Brown
The man at the picnic table received a tiny beepbeepbeep in his Bluetooth wireless headset, telling him that a tiny millimeter-wave sensor set up in the park had detected that one of the men was carrying a large metallic object—and it wasn’t a tackle box, either. The second man in the vest stopped about a dozen paces from the picnic area beside the ramp to the boat-launching ramp next to a garbage can and began scanning the area like the first. The third man walked up to the man at the picnic table. “Hot enough out here for you?” he asked.
“This is nothing,” the man at the picnic table said. He set his laptop down, got to his feet, turned to the newcomer, and removed his sunglasses. “They say it’ll get above a hundred by May and stay above a hundred and ten for all of June, July, and August.”
“Swell,” the newcomer said. “Cuts down on visitors, eh?” He looked past the man and to the boy fishing beside the boat ramp. “Cripes, can’t believe how tall Bradley’s getting.”
“He’ll be taller than the old man any day now.”
“No doubt.” The newcomer extended a hand. “How the hell are you, Patrick?”
“Just fine, Mr. President,” Patrick McLanahan said. “You?”
“Fine. Bored. No, bored out of my skull,” former President of the United States Kevin Martindale replied. He looked around. “Kind of a bleak place you got here, Muck. It’s not San Diego. It’s not even Vegas.”
“The desert grows on you, especially if you come here in late winter and experience the gradual change in the temperature,” Patrick said.
“You planning on staying?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Patrick said. “I bought a homesite and a hangar at the airpark in Searchlight. Don’t know if I’m ready to build yet. The place is growing. I’m homeschooling Bradley now, but the schools here are getting better, they say, as more and more folks move to the area.”
“And Jon Masters is just a little ways up Highway 95.”
“Yeah, and he bugs me just about every day to come work for him, but I’m not sure,” Patrick admitted.
“That hotshot astronaut Hunter Noble signed up with him. I heard he’s a vice president already. But I’m sure they’ll make a place for you if you want it.”
“Been there, done that.”
“There’s another thing that we’ve both done before, Patrick,” Martindale said.
“I figured you’d be showing up sooner or later about that.”
“You have the Tin Men and the CIDs, don’t you?”
“The what?”
“You’re a horrible liar,” Martindale said with a laugh.
“Is there any use trying to lie? I’m sure your intelligence network is good…”
“As good as the one you’ve reportedly built? I doubt it. I doubt it very much,” the former President said. “Listen, my friend, you’re still needed. The country needs you. I need you. Besides, the stuff you have stashed away is government property. You can’t keep it.” Patrick gave him a direct glance—just a fleeting one, but the meaning was loud and clear. “Okay, you probably can keep it, but you shouldn’t just squirrel it away. You can do an awful lot of good with it.” Patrick said nothing. Martindale took off his sunglasses and wiped them with a shirttail. “Heard the latest about Persia?”
“About the new president being assassinated?”
“When that hits the news the entire Middle East will go bonkers again, and Mohtaz will re-emerge from whatever rock he crawled under when the Russians left and claim the presidency again. The people want Queen Azar to take control of the government until new elections can be held, but she insists the prime minister, Noshahr, take charge.”
“She’s right.”
“Noshahr’s a bureaucrat, a bean counter. He can’t run the country. Azar or Buzhazi should take charge under emergency authority until elections are held.”
“He’ll be fine, sir. If he’s not, Azar will go to Parliament and recommend someone else. Buzhazi flat out won’t do it.”
“You think she’ll ask Saqqez, the deputy prime minister?”
“I hope not. He’s taken too many trips to Moscow to suit me.”
Martindale nodded knowingly. “I knew you were keeping tabs on this stuff,” he said. “Speaking of Moscow—what do you think about that replacement for Zevitin, Igor Truznyev, the former FSB chief?”
“He’s a bloodthirsty goon,” Patrick said. “He’s doing a quiet little purge out there. The word is Hedrov will be next to be ‘reassigned’ to Siberia.”
Martindale smiled and nodded. “Even I haven’t heard that one yet, Patrick!” he said excitedly. “Thanks for the tip. I owe you one.”
“Don’t mention it, sir.”
“Too bad about Zevitin, huh?” Martindale commented. “Unfortunate skiing accident, they said. That tree jumped out from nowhere and nearly took his head off, I hear. Poor bastard. Have you heard anything else about that?” Patrick had no comment. “Funny about that happening right around the same time Buzhazi attacks Mashhad and you come back from Armstrong all of a sudden. I guess strange things do happen in threes, huh?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yeah. Sure they do.” Martindale put an arm around Patrick’s shoulders. “You see, my friend, you can’t leave the biz behind,” he said. “It’s in your blood. I can name a couple hundred hot spots in the world and you’ll tell me something interesting about each one.”
“Sir, I’m not interested in—”
“Mongolia,” Martindale interjected. He smiled when he saw Patrick’s eyes light up. “Aha, you know something. What is it?”
“I heard General Dorjiyn will be replaced as chief of staff because he’s too chummy with the United States,” Patrick said.
“So now he can run for president, right?”
“No, because he was born in Inner Mongolia—China—and proclaimed his allegiance to Beijing as a young officer,” Patrick said. “But his son will run.”
Martindale slapped his hands together. “Damn, I forgot about Myren Dorjiyn…!”
“Muren.”
“Muren. Right. He graduated from Berkeley two years ago with a master’s degree, right?”
“Double doctorate. Economics and government.”
Martindale nodded, pleased that Patrick passed the two little tests he had given him. “See? I knew you were keeping up on this stuff!” Martindale exclaimed happily. “Come on back, Patrick. Let’s join forces again. We’ll set this world on fire.”
Patrick smiled, then looked out at his son fishing and said, “I’ll see you around, Mr. President,” and walked out to join his son in the warm spring morning.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to fellow author Debbie Macomber and her husband, Wayne, for their generosity.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Your comments are welcome! E-mail me at [email protected] or visit www.AirBattleForce.com to read my essays and commentary and get the latest updates on new projects, tour schedules, and more!
About the Author
DALE BROWN is the author of numerous New York Times bestsellers, starting with Flight of the Old Dog in 1987. A former U.S. Air Force captain, he can often be found flying his own plane over the skies of Nevada.
www.dalebrown.info
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ALSO BY DALE BROWN
STRIKE FORCE
EDGE OF BATTLE
ACT OF WAR
PLAN OF ATTACK
AIR BATTLE FORCE
WINGS OF FIRE
WARRIOR CLASS
BATTLE BORN
THE TIN MAN
FATAL TERRAIN
SHADOW OF STEEL
STORMING HEAVEN
CHAINS OF COMMAND
NIGHT OF THE HAWK
SKY MASTERS
HAMMERHEADS
DAY OF THE CHEETAH
SILVER TOWER
FLIGHT OF THE OLD DOG
Credits
Jacket design by Richa
rd L. Aquan
Jacket photographs by Robert Llewellyn/ Workbook Stock/Jupiterimages
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SHADOW COMMAND. Copyright © 2008 by Air Battle Force, Inc. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition April 2008 ISBN 9780061751592
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Contents
Cast of Characters
Weapons and Acronyms
Real-World News Excerpts
Prologue
Chapter 01
Chapter 02
Chapter 03
Chapter 04
Chapter 05
Chapter 06
Chapter 07
Chapter 08
Chapter 09
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Author's Note
About the Author
Other Books by Dale Brown
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
