Killing for the Company: Just Another Day at the Office...
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Former SAS legend Chris Ryan brings you his sixteenth novel and it is full of all his trademark action, thrills and inside knowledge.
2003. Invalided out of the SAS Chet Freeman makes his living in high-end security, on a temporary contract for an American corporation called the Grosvenor Group. He catches a young woman, a peace campaigner, eavesdropping on a meeting the Group is holding with the British Prime Minister.
The Group's interests include arms manufacture, and what Chet and the young woman overhear seems to imply that it is bribing the Prime Minister to take his country into an illegal war. "Could this possibly be true? "Somebody believes that this is a secret that needs covering up, because Chet and the girl are attacked. Hunted down, they go into hiding, and a deadly game of cat and mouse begins.
Nearly ten years later tension is reaching breaking point in Jerusalem. The now ex-Prime Minister is working as a Middle East peace envoy. As the city descends into anarchy and rival armies are poised to turn it into a battlefield, Chet's best buddy, Luke, is part of a team tasked by the Regiment with extracting the ex-Prime Minister.At the height of the battle Luke discovers a conspiracy far more devastating than any arms deal.
Ivanovic stared at the monstrous sight of Chet’s damaged body with a look of horror, his screaming now subsided into a series of desperate gasps and groans. But Luke didn’t care about the Serb and his injuries. Or about the bodies all around them. All he cared about was his Regiment mate, collapsed and close to death, on the ground. Three For a moment, everything was silent. Luke looked around. Six corpses; two gravely injured men. Pools of blood everywhere, and a strange cocktail of smells:
attention and Luke didn’t like that. A CAT team would normally take one of two options. They would either follow the principal in an unmarked vehicle – an old baker’s van or a utility truck, something that would merge into the background – if they didn’t want to be seen. If the situation required a more overt, threatening presence, the unmarked van would be replaced with a Jeep mounted with a .50-cal or a Gimpy – something to make people think twice about engaging them. But Hamas’s insistence
long table where he kept the detector. ‘Hands on the table,’ he instructed. The youngster gave him a lazy look filled with contempt. For a few seconds he didn’t do anything, but then he shrugged, moved over to the table and bent over slightly so that his hands were flat down on it. ‘Legs apart,’ Reuben told him. Another pause. Then, making an obvious meal of it, the kid moved each leg in turn a few inches outwards. Reuben was meticulous with the detector, scanning every square centimetre of
palms, but she recognised the severity in her handler’s voice, and she knew he was not the type to make threats idly. Slowly she removed her hands from her face and sat up again, though she refused to look directly at him. ‘War is around the corner,’ Cohen murmured, staring out across the park. ‘The Arabs will pay for what they did to Amit. They will pay for what they continue to do to Israel. Saddam Hussein has his missiles pointed at our homeland, Maya. We both know he would fire them if he
Pieter,’ Nathan smiled blandly. ‘You must trust me to handle Stratton.’ ‘Ah, I don’t know, man. I don’t like it. I don’t like him.’ ‘Come on, Pieter. Look what we made from Iraq while everyone else was worrying about oil. Stratton’s like war – good for business.’ He walked round to where the South African was standing and slapped his palm in a comradely fashion against the back of his sweaty shirt. ‘I’m going to get you that chick’s number,’ he said. ‘You look like you could use a good time.