The Teeth of the Tiger (A Jack Ryan Novel)
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A man named Mohammed sits in a café in Vienna, about to propose a deal to a Colombian. Mohammed has a strong network of agents and sympathizers throughout Europe and the Middle East, and the Colombian has an equally strong drug network throughout America. What if they were to form an alliance, to combine all their assets and connections? The potential for profits would be enormous—and the potential for destruction unimaginable.
In the Brave New World of terrorism—where anybody with a spare AK-47, a knowledge of kitchen chemistry, or simply the will to die can become a player—the old rules no longer apply. No matter what new governmental organizations come into being, the only truly effective ones are those that are quick and agile, free of oversight and restrictions...and outside the system.
Way outside the system.
In a nondescript office building in suburban Maryland, the firm Hendley Associates does a profitable business in stocks, bonds, and international currencies, but its true mission is quite different: to identify and locate terrorist threats, and then deal with them, in whatever manner necessary. Established with the knowledge of President John Patrick Ryan, "the Campus" is always on the lookout for promising new talent, its recruiters scattered throughout the armed forces and government agencies—and three men are about to cross its radar.
The first is Dominic Caruso, a rookie FBI agent, barely a year out of Quantico, whose decisive actions resolve a particularly brutal kidnap/murder case. The second is Caruso's brother, Brian, a Marine captain just back from his first combat action in Afghanistan, and already a man to watch. And the third is their cousin...a young man named Jack Ryan, Jr.
Jack was raised on intrigue. As his father moved through the ranks of the CIA and then into the White House, Jack received a life course in the world and the way it operates from agents, statesmen, analysts, Secret Service men, and black ops specialists such as John Clark and Ding Chavez. He wants to put it all to work now—but when he knocks on the front door of "the Campus," he finds that nothing has prepared him for what he is about to encounter. For it is indeed a different world out there, and in here...and it is about to become far more dangerous.
just looked like some sort of pimp. He was, in short, unworthy of the Marine’s steel, not a man to be killed, but a cockroach to be eliminated. Even if he did drive a car worth more than a Marine captain made in ten years, before taxes. A Marine officer might save up for a Chevy Corvette, but, no, this POS had to have the grandson of James Bond’s car, to go along with the whores he rented. You could call him a lot of things, but “man” was definitely not among them, the Marine thought,
and you can’t hardly threaten a guy who wants to die in the performance of his duty. All you can do is stop him, and stopping a person like that means his heart has to discontinue beating.” Another pull on the beer. “Yeah, Enzo. I’m okay. I wonder who our next subject is.” “Give ’em an hour to chew on it. How about a walk?” “Works for me.” Brian stood, and in a minute they were back out on the street. It was a little too obvious. The British Telecom van was just pulling away, but the Aston
and that’s my fault, not his.” “He also said you were too smart to fuck up the way you did.” Ordinarily, it would have been a positively seismic faux pas, but it was obvious from looking in the boy’s eyes that he hadn’t meant it as any sort of insult but rather as a question . . . or was it? Hendley suddenly asked himself. “It was a bad time for me,” Gerry reminded his guest. “And anybody can make a mistake. Your dad even made a few himself.” “That’s true. But Dad was lucky to have Arnie
today, fellas?” Pete Alexander asked. “Delightful,” Dominic answered. “Maybe we should try it wearing fifty-pound backpacks.” “That could be arranged,” Alexander replied. “Hey, Pete, we used to do that in Force Recon. It ain’t fun,” Brian objected at once. “Turn down the sense of humor, bro,” he added for his brother. “Well, it’s good to see you’re still in shape,” Pete observed comfortably. He didn’t have to do the morning runs, after all. “So what’s up?” “I still wish I knew more about our
more credit cards than the ones we know about—unused accounts. I’ll be riffling through his bank accounts later today. He doesn’t really know about how to be covert yet. Too young, too inexperienced, no formal training. But, yes, I think he’s a player, hoping to move into the big leagues pretty soon. The young and rich are not known for their patience,” Cunningham concluded. I should have guessed that myself, Junior told himself. I need to think this stuff through better. Another important