Beecroft pushed back his chair and struggled to remove his corpulent frame from its clutches. He finally jumped to his feet, drawing himself up to his full five feet nine inches. You will do no such t...
How did you know the CIA would send me? Vance asked. That, my friend, was Allah’s will, or perhaps it was because I asked for you personally. It depends what you believe.
Remember, Bish, Vance growled, this is a covert op. No blowing shit up or jazzing up the local law enforcement. If Dostiger realizes we’re onto him, he’ll just get the fuck out of Dodge. Keep this cle...
So this is the renegade running black ops in my Emirates, Beecroft said. I’m sorry: black ops? Vance returned the scornful gaze, equally unimpressed with the ambassador. Beecroft sported a portly fram...
In the back of the van, the teenager was sitting on a layer of small bricks wrapped in wax paper. He was clutching what looked like a slot car controller, his fist clenched around it. Release-activate...
Let me get this straight, asked Vance. You want to fund us to run around the world whacking all those evil fuckers that the CIA never let us touch? Not how I would have described it, but yes, that is...
Major Chua speaking. Hey bud, it’s Vance. You’re supposed to be dead. That’s no way to greet an old friend. Chua looked down at the phone; the caller ID was blank and yet the call was still coming thr...
Race you back. Bet you twenty bob I win. Mitch pressed the ignition button of his customized ride. The 1,000cc engine roared to life. You serious? God knows what you’ve done to that thing. Probably go...
Then that hunch of yours has turned out pretty well. It’s a bit early but it would seem so. Getting more like Bishop every week. Vance grinned. Chua frowned. Unlikely. Unless I start chasing random wo...
Do they look Russian? Vance did not sound concerned. Big shaved heads, jeans, and T-shirts. Yeah, old man, I’d say they look pretty Russian. I mean they’re not wearing Cossack outfits, but hey, it’s t...